Standing on the Threshold
by featheredblades
Summary: Cameron wasn't exaggerating when he said his father loved that car more than life itself. S/C, a couple of weeks after the movie ends.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Did anybody else see the amazing chemistry between Mia Sara and Alan Ruck throughout the movie? No? Ok well go watch the part when Ferris disappears to star in the float parade, and also the part when Sloane asks Cameron if he saw her change... nope? Nothing? Ok, well I guess I'm just changing things about in my head- but that is what fanfiction is for... I present to you...**

Standing on the Threshold

"You know my father, he loves that car more'n life itself.."

As dramatic as Cameron could be, in this case he was entirely, wickedly, painfully truthful. _Cam's father loved the Ferrari more than life itself._

The day they decided to ditch school (which went down in Ferris' head as The Day My Sister Saved My Ass, in Sloane's head as The Day Ferris First Asked Me To Marry Him, and in Cameron's head as The Day I Wrecked The Ferrari), Mr. Frye drove home early in his Acura Integra. It was a far more practical car for practical matters. He arrived home at 5:53pm, thinking he could use a cup of coffee to boost his flagging energy levels before taking a look at the papers for the next morning.

At 5:57pm, he stood in the kitchen, kettle billowing out steam and the bean grinder on, absentmindedly looking out the window. It was a lovely summer evening, and the lighting reminded him of his fishing trips during the '50s.

Cam was summoned at 6:00pm precisely.

His father was apoplectic. His fingers trembling, curling in thin air, face ashen. It faded into incomprehension, his mind already starting to move into denial.

Cam opened his mouth. "Dad, I ca-"

"Why?"

Cam shut his mouth. The excuse melted away, and he looked younger than his years.

"You've never given me any trouble before, son. Why now? Why would you do something like that?"

Frye Sr. grasped the kitchen counter with both hands, staring out unseeing at the wreck below, the trees that had been felled and the red smear, his pride and joy.

"I was-was- trying to be my own man."

"Your own man... _Right_. A fool's man." He let out a derisive chuckle, and a final sightless sigh. The grinder had stopped a few minutes ago and there was an exhausted silence between them. "Your mother will be home in half an hour. Do your homework, junior."

and at 6:03pm, Frye Jr. trudged upstairs, brushed aside into his childhood self again.

Money had never been a problem for the Fryes. Happiness, however, was another issue. Mrs. Frye when she came home supported neither her husband nor her son; she was, through years of conditioning, a prickly woman, prone to snap judgements and highly unsympathetic. She merely glanced over her shoulder as she boiled pasta and told Frye Sr. that it was only a car and to grow a pair. Dinner came, and after, thel three Fryes went to their separate rooms and ways.

Tension was with them, silently instating itself as the head of the household as night fell, increasing its hold as the weeks went on.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sloane flopped on her bed, swishing a waterfall of hair over one shoulder, crossing and uncrossing her ankles.

"So... tell me everything..." she prodded into the phone at her ear, "are you going together?"

Annette Felderman's embarrassed alto sounded back at her. "I'm not sure, he- he said he was going to the movies with his little brother this weekend, and- and I can't tell if that means he's not interested anymore! I mean, god, I was chewing on blue bubblegum and I must have had a blue tongue and just, urrrrggghhh, who wants to get close to someone who looks like they've got X-Men virus?!"

"I heard Darren is going to talk to him tomorrow after football practice, that locker time is such a blast!"

"You think so?"

"Mhmm", her smile widened, "and if he doesn't then I guess I'll have to go see myself."

"Sloane!" Annette shrieked, titillated, "But we have cheer!"

Sloane rolled her eyes, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Who am I going out with, exactly?"

Ferris was not the guy she'd imagined herself saying yes to- she had in her head always assumed one of the wingers on the hockey team would eventually approach her and from there they'd be a power couple. But somehow his charm and his confidence swept her up until she couldn't imagine saying anything but yes to him. He had changed her, she saw now, changed her for the better. Her perspective on life was irrevocably shifted.

"But what about Gina? She'll murder you!"

This was true; Gina was the capt of the Cheerleading squad and she was a monstrous bitch of a Capt. She tried to make them practise on Saturdays! Sloane was so not about that. But Sloane knew that Gina could be reasoned with especially if she brought her Crackerjacks.

"Naw, Gina is a sweetie, she'd so understand. Besides, we can't exactly have our star flyer moping around because of some dumb guy problems, right? Of course that's worth missing practice to fix up!"

"Really? You'd do that for me? You're a babe Sloane.." Annette sighed gratefully.

Sloane dimly heard the doorbell go off downstairs,- "What was that Annie? Someone was at the door I didn't get that- oh, uh huh," and then her mother calling for her, and she uncrossed her ankles one last time and rolled off the bed, smiling a little as she did so. She padded downstairs, knee high socks silent on the carpet trim, holding onto the phone by pressing her shoulder up into her cheek.

Her mother was usually kindly, with dimples and twinkling eyes outweighing the crows' feet; today, she wrung her hands fretfully and gave her daughter a meaningful glance at the door. "It's for you, honey," she said. "I'll be in the study if you need anything."

Sloane nodded distractedly, still listening to Annette's chatter as she pulled on the handle and swung the door ajar.

"It's just Ferris, anyway, noooo, oh my gosh that happened to me too just you wait, I'll bet whe-", and her voice died.

It wasn't Ferris. It was Cameron.

She stared at him unblinking, the voice in her ear still going on about _Malone_ and those stupid stupid boys and it had been her world before but that was all so pointless and trite because _Cameron was on her doorstep._

Cameron had never come round to her house before. She didn't even know he knew where she lived. She realised she'd been staring for way too long, probably a good five seconds, and he huffed a nervous smile, a twitch of the corner of his mouth.

"Can I come in?"

"uh... sure, sure, come on right in. Shoes off by the door." She said awkwardly, aware now that Annette was on the other end of the phone and she had to tell her goodbye in a way that signalled please ask me about it tomorrow because this was Highly Unusual and Needed Gossip Emergency Response (HUNGER for short).

"Oh, Annie, my mom's calling me to go, such a shame; it's almost dinner time and I'm getting so _hungryyyy…"_

Annette, as fate would have it, didn't pick up on this and cheerily agreed with her saying she was thinking of getting pizza. Lucky bitch. She hung up the phone and looked back at Cameron again, suddenly curious.

His frame was hunched over slightly as he shucked his sneakers off and he was wearing that stupid Detroit Red Wings jersey again, the same one from when they'd gone downtown The Day Ferris First Asked Me To Marry Him a couple of weeks ago. She smiled up at him warmly and turned to head into their kitchen.

"I was about to open up a Poptart package, d'you want one?" He nodded, and it seemed almost kind of meek the way he followed her.

She hopped up onto the stool in the kitchen and ripped open a chocolate flavour. When she'd first met Ferris, he had always had a spare chocolate poptart in his bag. She'd asked him why and he'd given her an easy grin with eyes that said he knew girls loved a mystery, and said, "for a friend in their hour of need". Now they were going steady for just over a year, the mystery was out- they were simply Cameron's favourite. She pushed two into the toaster.

He leaned on her kitchen counter, and the red of his jersey clashed oh-so-horribly with her mom's pale pink kitchen tiling. There was an awkward silence.

"Did Ferris show you where my house is?" Sloane blurted out, eyes widening at her own apparent rudeness. "I didn't mean it like that, I just... didn't know you knew where I live..."

Cameron let out a snort, and the tension broke. "Secret's out, you've got me, I'm your nuhhhmmer waaaan stalker."

She mock-horror-faced him and they laughed contentedly. Sloane was the year below Cameron in high school but she never felt like he was one of those particularly cool people she had to be all college-grown-up for.

The toaster popped up and she took the poptarts out, exaggeratedly gasping and playing hot potato with the heated snack. "ooh! ooh! my hands! hot hot hot hot!"

He caught his from her and easily crunched into it, ignoring the scald on his tongue. Sloane preferred to nibble more delicately, wary of the heat.

"Soooo, uhm… yeah- it's my dad."

"Yeah? How's he doing?"

"He's dead."

Chocolate mushy poptart sprayed out from Sloane's mouth all across the kitchen counter as she choked. "wh-what?"

"Yeah." Cameron resolutely continued to look down at only his own poptart.

"Oh my god..."

"Yeah."

"Oh my god, how?"

"I think he shot himself."

Sloane pushed back a stray lock of hair, peeking at him askance and attempting to wipe the mess off her chin without looking extremely unattractive.

"Do you want me to call Ferris?"

Cameron tilted his head to one side, considering, watching the crumbs form in his giant hands.

"You know what? No. I'm sorry. It's stupid I came here."

Sloane tentatively reached out for his shoulder. It was far higher up against her than Ferris' and she had to stretch right out of her kitchen stool to touch it.

"It's a really awful thing that's happened, Cameron. He's your best friend and I think maybe he could help you."

"No. He won't get it, he won't goddamn get it." He set his jaw and she knew he was going to be stubborn about it. There was a reason in his head somewhere floating around and it was going to make perfect sense to him and seem absolutely crazy to her, and the best thing to do was wait until it all came spilling out of him, unchoking. Oprah said so.

"Well, okay then..." and she sank back into her kitchen stool, absentmindedly finding a cloth to clean up the crumbs. The dogs from across the road were barking and that reminded her she needed to let out their dog into the yard before she started homework. She whistled for Malcolm (so called after Malcolm X). He was the Peterson family lab, a dog far more fat and wiggly than Ferris', in occasional need of cajoling and frequent need of cuddles.

 _Click clack click clack click clack scrabble_

Her dog's waddling paws started to speed up and he hurtled into the kitchen, a veritable whirlwind of panting and drool and wheezy black fur. She wouldn't trade him for anything.

"C'mon boy! C'mon, let's go- whozagoodboy, yes it's you, let's go!" Two pats upon his rear and he was set off again towards the back door out to the yard. Cameron watched silently, a little surprised, and oh _actually come to think of it had she ever mentioned she had a dog? Maybe not._

She nodded at him and together they went outside into the golden evening. It hadn't hit 7pm yet and the sunshine was still streaming through the trees.

"Y'know," she said sheepishly, pushing a tendril of hair behind one ear, "I just got massive de ja vu. My first ever date was taking Malcolm to the park on a day as good as this."

"With Ferris?"

"Nah, with some boy who thought prog rock was the coolest thing ever," Sloane smiled a little, remembering it.

"Yeah. Didn't seem like something he'd do."

"Oh?"

"Ferris- he, he lives his life like he's the star of his own show." Cameron looked over at Malcolm, following the trail of some harebrained bunny around a tree in the yard. "Your dog seems like he'd steal the spotlight, no offense."

"Just a little!" she laughed and let the comment about her boyfriend slide. She was used to that, to be honest. Everyone had something to say about Ferris, not all of it good. People their age adored him from afar, people up close marvelled at his luck, adults found him irrepressible and incorrigible.

"I came home yesterday and, uh..."

Malcolm decided now was a good time to poop.

"One sec! Gotta get the pooperscooper!"

Sloane at least dealt with that quickly and efficiently, so Cameron still had his mouth open to speak by the time she came back to him, wheezy old furbag at her heels.

"It's OK, Cam. You don't have to tell me anything," she smiled, trying to keep the mood from falling into the strange sombriety that threatened to consume them ever since he showed up at her house, and then before she knew it, her mouth kept moving, and the words she didn't even know she wanted to say came out. "You're welcome here if you want to tell me what happened, but that doesn't have to be today. And if you don't want to tell Ferris about it, then I won't tell him what I know. Although it i _s_ kind of hard to pretend someone isn't dead."

By his wince she knew that last bit hadn't been the best joke, but she smiled at him and fluttered her eyelashes a little to turn on the charm, and his shy tentative nod back meant suddenly that that was ok. Maybe he would never take her up on it, but it was ok. She was being a good friend.

That was the only thing she told her mother when she said goodbye to him at the door.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading this far! please leave a review, would love your thoughts :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for reading!** **I swear, coming up with a title for this thing was the hardest task ever. I was so sure this was going to be a oneshot because, y'know, when do I ever have the time for more than a one-shot? If you feel like doing a good deed today, basically review telling me to get back to work and sort my priorities in life out, I will be eternally grateful lol.** T_T

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane never expected Cameron to come back again.

She saw him twice in lunch hall, one time after school when Ferris asked her to wait for him outside his locker, and one time when she was in the parking lot with Gina, discussing the cheer uniforms for next season. She'd briefly smiled at him, he'd smiled back, and she'd continued asking if _shorts underneath the skirts or built in skorts is the better option?_

Ferris however... Ferris she saw a lot.

He wasn't the kind of guy to push anything on her, never had been and never would be. It was just kind of like a riptide current, sweeping her up in his world without even trying. He wanted to go down to the lake one day, her friends asked him to come to the arcade to celebrate his return to health, that whole drama with that 'Plucky Nurse' dug up some really sketchy dealings in the English Faculty... Sloane hadn't been able to look at Principal Rooney in the eye for a whole _week_ after her 'dad' had come to pick her up. She was even more worried he'd see heractual dad pick her up at some point and that would completely blow the house of cards down.

Sloane had originally promised herself that she would never hide anything from Ferris, except maybe the fact that sometimes when he fell asleep on her shoulder he drooled a little bit. Her mother always told her that honesty and compassion were the key to making a relationship work.

Cameron's dad being dead was her first proper secret from Ferris. She was shocked at how easy it was to keep.

Aside from the occasional "tighter than his old man!" jokes, there wasn't much time spent on Cameron's dad in the first place. Sloane could forget she even knew the secret.

Which was why, after three weeks of life slowly being sucked into the Bueller household, Sloane got another unexpected visit from another unexpected source.

Jeanie.

Sloane wasn't sure how she felt about Jeanie. On the one hand, she had admired her style since, like, middle school. On the other, she kinda was Arch Nemesis to Ferris and a dutiful girlfriend shouldn't ignore that. So she settled for wary, and very, very confused when Jeanie rang her doorbell and said coolly oh hi Mrs. Peterson, I'm Ferris' older sister Jeanie, I'm on my way to Baskin Robbins, just wondered if Sloane wanted to come too?

So she hopped in Jeanie's piece of old shit car, and they drove out in silence, radio playing an old crackly song from the fifties. It seemed like they had a maybe friendly squabble at the BR counter over which of the 31 flavours was the best ( _...duh, Mint Choc Chip)_ and then they took their cones outside to enjoy the sunshine.

"You are so tanned, girl, it's annoying." Jeanie said.

"I'm lazy," Sloane grinned, "I wish I had your hair though. If I tried to curl it, it'd just look fake."

"It makes me look old."

"I was gonna say... mature. But guys like college girls, right?"

That innocent comment had clearly hit a nerve because Jeannie stood, arms folded and shades on, grinding her teeth a little while the ice cream melted. At last she said, "I guess they sure do, they sure do."

Uh oh. Sloane's little internal girl-alarm went off. Gossip incoming. "What happened?"

"I- I met a guy. I didn't really think about it at first, but he got into my head."

"That's so sweet, how'd you two meet?"

"In the police station," Jeanie tilted her head and Sloane could tell behind the shades she was rolling her eyes, "tough guy."

"Wait, what were you doing in the police station?"

A small embarrassed laugh, a flash of white teeth, curls bouncing as she shook her head. Sloane took it all in analytically.

"It's a long story, but yeah...he got into my head and we met up like once after and hit it off and I went to go see him yesterday and... he was, with a girl."

"Oh no, who's he going with?"

"No no no, he was _with_ a girl."

"Oh." Sloane flushed. Jeanie ran a hand through her hair awkwardly.

"Yeah. He threw a bathrobe at the girl to cover up and was- oh, you know when people just start talking and they'll say anything to get you to leave quick- well he said I was a real nice kid, but he didn't think I was mature enough to play with him."

"That sucks, Jeanie."

"Yeah..." Sloane took a bite of her ice cream. "...I want to get him back." She choked and the brainfreeze went to her head.

"Sorry?"

"I want to get him back. He's like the only guy I've even thought about going after."

"I thought you said you met him at a police station."

"Yeah, so?"

"So he must have been involved with some kind of crime or something?"

"Drugs, but like, I know so many people who smoke weed, that's just not a crime."

Sloane nodded, looking down at her toes, wiggling happy in her summer sandals.

"I've just got to appear more mature for him."

"I think he meant, uh..., putting out for him... I don't know."

Jeanie shifted her weight onto one jutting hip. She wrinkled her nose.

"I don't think I really want to know the answer, but have you and Ferris...?"

Sloane looked steadily into the shades. She wasn't sure there was a right answer to give, but whatever answer she gave had to be confident.

"That's between me and Ferris, Jeanie. What we do or don't do is not going to be helpful in this situation."

Jeanie nodded a little and Sloane breathed a silent sigh of relief. They had done stuff, sure, but they hadn't actually done _it_ yet because Sloane was a teeny bit terrified about it and she was pretty sure Ferris was too.

"What are you going to do then?"

"I... don't know. I'll think on it, I suppose."

Slow nod. Ice cream dripped. It was one of those lazy summer days.

"Are you ready for Ferris' graduation?"

"Not really... I still think of him as this snivelly twelve year old, y'know, coming up to mom like 'I need some help with maths'- it feels strange to think he'll be leaving me and the rents. What about you, are you ready?"

Sloane cocked her head to one side, smiling winningly at nobody in particular. It was a trick that she'd discovered had pleasing effects in third grade.

"It'll be a great day, I just know it! Of course I'll miss him when he goes off in the fall but I think Ferris wasn't made to live all his life in Chicago, y'know?"

"That's true." Jeanie sighed again. "Everything changes on Friday," she waved her hand vaguely, "all this- done."

They kept chatting about everything and nothing in particular, and if Sloane found herself warming up to her boyfriend's ex-Arch Nemesis and sister, well, she already had one secret from Ferris.

* * *

Jeanie dropped her off on the edge of her road, so she didn't have to have all the inconvenience of "Fucking 18-point turning to get out of your drive way" (quote unquote), which gave Sloane about a 5 minute walk. The sun was still high and the tarmac on the road warm, so she impulsively slipped out of her summer sandals and carried them dangling from her fingers.

This was something she'd always done as a little girl, walk barefoot on warm pavements, and it seemed fitting that the last few days before Ferris graduated and she had a 'college boyfriend' she should go back to her childhood.

She hummed an Elvis tune to herself, noting that her singing voice could really do with some work, padding across the tarmac up to her house, and stopped as she came to the foot of her porch steps.

There was a figure there, his head practically obscured by his drawn-up knees.

"Cam?" she called out, pleasantly surprised- and then concern jolted through her because what would somebody as languid and sun-appreciating as Cameron be doing curled like that on a day like today?

He lifted his head and gave her a weak smile.

"Hey Sloane. Fancy seeing you here, hardy har har. "

"Are you alright?"

Cameron shrugged and rolled his broad shoulders once, twice, cracking out the joints in his back. Sloane found it both mildly disgusting and entrancing.

He met her gaze for the first time and she saw with a streak of understanding that he hadn't gotten a good sleep in a while; there were bags under his eyes and his mouth seemed thinner, more drawn. Even his hair- and Sloane would never have said that she particularly noticed Cameron's hair before- but it seemed like all the life and fluff had gone out of it.

"Do you want to come in for dinner? I can ask Mom."

When his mouth opened and closed, as though he was going to say something but caught himself, she impulsively added, "it'd be ready in an hour and a half or so, we already practically make enough for leftovers for the whole week so it's not like it's any trouble."

He nodded, slowly, stiffly, rolling one shoulder again and got up from his crouch on the porch. "If you're sure," he said hesitantly, and with that Sloane grabbed his hand and lead him round off the porch to the side door to their yard, summer sandals still hanging off her fingers.

Sloane's dad was the one who kept the lawn and to be perfectly honest he was kind of lazy about it, something her mom teased him about endlessly, but Sloane herself liked the way that the long grass tickled her ankles and the random weeds had flowers as pretty as if she'd grown them with far less effort. She wasn't a house-proud kind of girl because this was '83 and that was such a frump thing to be, but, maybe, well, _content_.

Cameron sniffed the air a little, and she was sure she saw the hint of a smile tug the corner of his mouth, but it was soon lost to an apprehensive wrinkle as they headed up to the back door into the kitchen.

"Moooo-ooom!" Sloane sang, "Ferris' friend is here, make space for one more at the table!"

"You can do that yourself, young lady," her mother tossed over her shoulder while she splashed some red wine into a sauce. She turned a little to address Cameron. "Lovely to see you dear, how are you getting on? Are you graduating with Ferris on Friday?"

"Yes ma'am," he said.

"Oh I bet your parents must be so proud, I know I will be when Sloane goes up on stage next year- you know your father never graduated from high school? He got a job as a mechanic when we were back in Tennessee and moved into management and, well, that's life, we're here, but he will be so proud to see his little girl do something he never got to."

Sloane gaped, because she didn't know that about her father, and Cameron nodded, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, and then Sloane realised with a little pang that Cameron's parents probably wouldn't have come to see him graduate even if his dad had been alive.

"Well what's next for you then young man, are you going on to college? Got a juicy job lined up? Will you stay in Chicago?"

"I was thinki-"

"Oh Mom, you'll have all dinner to question Cam'ron, don't fire it all at him now! C'mon, I'll show you the house- Mom can I show him the house? She'll never stop gossiping otherwise."

" _She_ is the cat's mother," Her mom reprimanded, "and sure, it's not grand but it is home. Go set the table first though."

"That makes me the cat," Sloane shot back, "C'mon Cam!"

She opened the door out of the kitchen into their corridor. "Your place is way more open-plan than ours, doors everywhere," she laughed, "but it's been home for me for forever so I'm used to it. You're a little tall though, be careful to duck on the door frames!" Her hip casually pushed a sliding door open into their living/dining room, letting him follow, and she waved a hand at the sofas and the TV.

"That's where I ate so many Lucky Charms I got sick and couldn't go to school," moving over to the dining table, "see this mark here? I had my first boyfriend over and he thought it'd be funny to prove Malcolm was dumb. Took a piece of bacon, rubbed it all over the table leg. At dinner time Malcolm comes noseying in sniffing everything and goes to take a piece out of the table leg, you should have seen my dad's face!"

"Napkins are up on the top shelf over there, placemats one below, I'll nip back and get the cutlery and glasses from the kitchen," she told him smartly. They worked well together, silently sharing a smile when she had to reach across him to place a fork. It was- nice and strange and new.

"Looks all good!" Sloane exclaimed, and then rolled her eyes, dropping her voice a little so her mom couldn't hear from the next room. "Sorry about Mom, she loves every person of the male variety. You'd think she'd run off from Dad every chance she gets the way she asks about the mailman and my teachers and her lawyer. It's just how she is, she doesn't mean to be rude by it."

"You do the same thing sometimes," he muttered.

"Do not!" She was affronted.

"Do too- remember when that guy joined the football team last semester and you had to know everything about him?"

"That's totally not the same! That was an urgent matter of love- nobody does well on a broken heart and we needed to get Maria back in the dating game!"

"So you tried to stake the new guy out?"

"Well duh, he was a kicker and she's so superficial she'd love that kind of guy."

Cam looked at her with deeply tired amused eyes, and instead of escalating the banter he waved a hand at her and said, "I was promised a tour. I want to hear more stories about you getting sick from food."

"Oh, tour, right! C'mon then." And she led him upstairs, showing him the drawing room where she'd thought it was ok to draw when she was seven and the bathroom where she used to hold mini karaoke contests with her girlfriends and the time she chipped the walls in her parent's ante-room, coz she didn't know her dad's hockey stick was for OUTDOORS ONLY, until they came to the door that said 'Sloane' in deep green italic calligraphy.

"Would'a thought you'd pick purple," he commented, and Sloane suddenly felt a little bit awkward. She'd promised to show him the house, and kinda not showing her room would look like she was hiding it or felt awkward about it, which was totally not what a good hostess did, but if she actually did show him her room that would also be showing him a lot of stuff which was kind of awkward and personal.

She took a deep breath, thankful she'd at least tidied it yesterday, and slid her door open.

Cameron's face was impassive as he followed her in. He seemed to be waiting for just another story from her, but his eyes kept darting around, taking in bits and pieces. His gaze lingered on her chest of drawers for just a second, and her bed for a second more, and then turned to settle back on her.

"So, what's the damage on this place?" He joked, reaching over to her bedside table and plucking up a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses, plopping them comically on his head. She wondered if comedy was his way of trying to dispel the lingering unease around her.

Sloane tapped her chin for a moment, looking around for marks or particular memories. A couple of her and Ferris bubbled up but she shoved that out of her mind violently that was private, secret just for-

"Uh uh you've got something, no hiding it," he teased,

"What makes you say that?"

"You're blushing," he said, eyes sweeping up and down her distractedly before looking at her hands then her face again. "You're really good at lying, way better than me, and I never see it happen then, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's just _reaaaaally, reaaaally embarrassing._ " And Cameron, of all bloody things, stuck his tongue out at her.

Malcolm's padding wheezes could be heard coming along the corridor into her room, and it provided a beautiful distraction.

"Malllllleeeee!" she squealed, "Whoozagoodboy, come on in then!" Her overweight Labrador trundled up to her, squeezed past between the two of them and with a herculean effort flopped up on her bed. She pounced on him and started scratching behind his ears, fussing over him.

She noticed Cameron's face turn quietly wistful.

"I wanted a dog, when I was ten," he said, tentatively coming over to the very edge of Sloane's bed to pat Malcolm's flank.

"Really? I didn't know that," she asked, scooching over a little, not a full out invitation.

Cam hesitated for a moment and then sank onto the corner of the bed. He carefully did not touch Sloane at all, hand idly massaging over Malcolm's rising and falling side.

"I guess I knew my father never would have allowed it. So I didn't even really ask for one."

"What about your mom?"

"My mother- she... she doesn't like to be kind. She would probably have sided with me because she hates my father, but if I'd won she wouldn't have looked after it or loved it or probably even fed it when I was at school, an-an-and that's no way to treat a dog."

Sloane studiously continued scrunching up Malcolm's ears while she tried to think of what to say. Her mother had taught her to be kind and gracious.

"Malcolm always wants more cuddles," she said. _He could be your dog too._

"You spoil him," Cameron replied. _No thanks._

She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and then, almost not believing what she said, rebelling against the good girl her mother raised, out of her mouth came, "I spoil Ferris too. He's not complaining."

"Is Malcolm?"

"No, but I think you are."

"Nope, nope, not complaining at all." The last half of his sentence was mangled as Cameron tried to keep his jaws together through a yawn. He sagged into Malcolm's side slightly, the black lab whuffing at him through his wet nose.

"Everybody needs a dog, Cameron."

He neither agreed nor disagreed. The sunlight had faded to a softer glow streaming through her window, and if he closed his eyes he could see it dance behind his eyelids. They sat bathed in warm summer evening, and if at some point Cameron leant into her dog and then on her dog and then he was asleep on her bed next to her dog, mouth open and tired eyes unable to stay open, chest rising and falling like every moment was a gift, if at some point Sloane tiptoed down to her mother and let him rest, if at some point she came to wake him for dinner with an almost maternal pang in her chest, well, there was no harm in it.

* * *

 **A/N; thank you once again for reading, review me plz.** **Reviews are life blood, sustenance and nourishment for the endlessly distracted writer. Question for my viewers:**

 **If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?**

 **Over 'n Out,  
~featheredblades**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Omg what is this chapter 3 business I never make it to Chapter 3! Anyway, some more Sloane/Cam goodness for you because... because... because I wanted to. And Ferris and Cam do have to graduate at some point.**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane had just lifted a fork to her mouth when her mother popped the first question at Cameron.

She was clearing away dishes by the time she asked the last.

Sloane knew, without really knowing, that her mother would be inquisitive about any young man who just happened to be on the doorstep, and that the fact Cameron was a friend of Ferris' just exacerbated her curiosity.

She just didn't expect to find it so bloody irritating.

Some time during dinner she'd gone to stab her last piece of meat and her fork had made a horrible grating sound upon her plate, and her father, a normally taciturn Tennessee man, had looked up to ask her if she was alright. If _she_ was alright, not Cameron, who had literally come downstairs still half dazed from the honey of sleep, not Cameron, who sat there looking more and more uncomfortable as he divulged plans she hadn't known about, not Cameron who really did not deserve the full brunt of her mother's gossipy tendencies.

Sloane sniffed, choosing to ignore the part of her that said she had those gossipy tendencies too.

The meal had been good apart from that, and she walked Cameron to the door, Malcolm trotting at her heels, his own dinner heavy in his belly.

Cameron stood on the threshold, hands shoved into his pockets, relaxed in the pleasant evening air. There was a little breeze that tickled at her hair.

"Thanks, Sloane," he said, and she nodded, a closed-mouth smile.

"Hey- I was wondering, how'd you get here?" she blurted.

"If I go through the woods at my place, it's like a 10 minute walk to your part of town."

"Oh."

"Oh?" he mimicked, teasingly, and she instinctively moved to swat him. He danced out of reach with ease.

"Jerk." she rolled her eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Anyways, thank you for dinner, and, uh... the naptime. It was- the first good sleep I've had since he moved on." He gave a little half shrug of his shoulders and turned to step off the porch.

Sloane called out to him as he left, "Anytime! See you on Friday!" but she didn't know if he'd hear.

* * *

She was doing Ferris' tie and had been for the last 20 minutes.

Or rather, she was "doing Ferris' tie". Only one of her hands was in a remotely useful place to approach his neck.

He'd pinned her against the wall and tilted her head back slowly to kiss her, in a way that spoke of wanting to treasure this moment, of familiarity without force, and she'd smiled against his mouth because it _was_ a moment to treasure, stolen for themselves.

The sounds of megaphones and crowds and schoolgirls squabbling excitedly faded for them. It was just the cocoon of Ferris' arms and dark eyes charming and sparkling with mischief.

His mouth trailed across her neck, humming as he found her pulse point, breathing her in and exhaling lines of heat. An affectionate huff and scrape of teeth on her ear as he collected himself.

Sloane sighed and pressed her forehead to his.

"You're something special, Ferris Bueller", she murmured.

"I do my best," he grinned at her, "life moves pretty fast. I'm just trying to keep up."

"Yeah well keep up on the podium," she teased, smoothing down the shoulders of his graduation gown.

The megaphones came into earshot again, calling for Surnames A-C to line up on the stadium pitch in alphabetical order.

"Guess I gotta go," he smiled, and then just because he could, winked, "Scream for me, would ya?"

She blushed and shoved him halfheartedly. It was a point of contention that Ferris hadn't made her scream _in that way_ yet.

"Go on then, I'll be watching."

* * *

It turned out that it was quite hard to actually watch Ferris when you were on the other side of the stadium and there was no jumbotron TV to help you out. She could only see the mass of graduation gowns and swirling colours, a huddle of people becoming a long line of ants waiting to collect on 12 years of education.

Next to her Annette and Malone and Gina sobbed and laughed and hooted as the seniors' names were called out. In such a large school, they still didn't know everyone the year above. Some of the surnames were hilarious.

"I'd like that one to last-minute prompose me," Gina giggled, nudging Annette's side. "He looks like a basketballer."

"But you and Tony, hon!" Annette protested, "I was so sure he was gonna ask you."

"Oh, he did," Gina shot them both a look to check if they'd judge her. "I just, uh, didn't commit in case I got a better offer... at this rate he'll take me anyhow."

Sloane shrugged. The more time she spent with Ferris, the less typical teenage moral quandaries bothered her. She focused on the crowds beneath them, trying to spot Ferris before his name was called.

"-oane, what are you wearing to prom?"

"Oh, sorry, huh?"

"I _said,_ what are you wearing to prom? I never see you any more and I haven't got any gossip about your dress and you always look stunning!" Malone whined.

"Oh, I'm not going this year."

All three girls' jaws dropped.

"YOU'RE _NOT_ GOING?!"

"Wh-what do you mean you're not going!"

"Why on earth not?"

"Calm down, ladies," Sloane said with a placating smile, "Ferris and a couple of his friends think high school prom is a lame excuse for teachers to get a boogie on, so they're holding their own party to celebrate 'the end of slavery'."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"-Can I come?"

"-But what about your dress?!"

"Malone, darling, you _are_ destined to be a fashion reporter. So let me just run over what I'll be wearing tonight. Pale blue cashmere cami-top, black miniskirt, those gray sneakers that your brother's girlfriend designed."

Malone hung on every word.

"And the make up?"

"Only my eyes."

"And you never even bought a prom dress?"

"I never even went shopping for it."

Satisfied, Malone leaned back in her seat, curling one strand of hair around her finger.

Gina looked as though she'd swallowed something unpleasant.

"You didn't think to tell us?" she muttered, and Sloane's mouth opened and closed while she looked for something to say.

The truth was, no, she hadn't thought to tell them at all. Ferris made it clear that while cheerleaders were cool as a rule the superficial sexy chicks didn't have much countenance with the people he rolled with.

She settled with, " I didn't think it'd be your kind of thing, and I didn't want to look lame coz I was missing prom."

That apparently sorted Gina out, although she still looked a little unhappy.

Sloane's gaze travelled to Annette, who was sat chewing her bottom lip. She only ever did that in History class, and she often said the History teacher made her on the verge of tears.

"Are you sure you want to come?"

Annie nodded. "I mean, I know Darren talked to Tom and we were going good and all but we just aren't ready to go to prom together, you know? I didn't want to freak him out and get over clingy so I said to Louisa and Maria and Donna, you know them girls from my Chem AP class? Well I said to them it'd be ok we could all go together, but see I think they're better friends with each other than me and Ferris' friends are cute so I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I came with you."

Sloane mentally scheduled five minutes in the day where she'd have to break it to Ferris that Annette wanted to come.

"Sure", she said, shrugging a little. Her gaze was sucked back to the line of students trickling up to that podium. Rooney had reached "Buchanan". There was a brief, near unnoticed pause, almost like Rooney was gritting his teeth.

"Bueller, Ferris!"

She howled with delight.

The moment of elation hung in her head long after. She came down to the stadium field and found Ferris' smile, so wide it could shatter, being swept up in a crushing hug and whoop, shaking hands with his father and greeting Jeannie and his mother.

"Oh do let's stay for Cameron," she said, when it seemed as though they might leave. Ferris nodded, contentedly lazing on the school fields, resplendent in his gown. As the graduates trickled away, they came over to see him, congratulate and jostle his shoulders, their families greeting and goodbyeing.

He was as ever sublime, unconsciously lord of his own somehow aligning world. Sloane sat next to him, hands folded prettily in her lap, as his fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Dennison, Brady!"

"Jerk." Ferris sang.

"Ferris!" His mother protested, a little shocked.

"Detribani, Alietta!"

"Dweeb."

"DuPont, Marcel!"

"Gym king."

"Dunfries, Alan!"

"Sausage king," with a wink to Sloane.

"Dyrim, Akbar!"

"I don't actually know that guy... does anyone?" Jeannie shook her head, trying to hold back laughter.

They made idle chat for a while, Sloane asking her future mother in law whether she'd finally closed the deal with the 'Vermont people' ( _yes, yes, she had, and a nice tidy profit for the Bueller household too, and didn't Sloane think real estate was a good solid career for a woman?)_. She could see Ferris begin to get impatient, feel the waiting catch up to him from his toes to his fingertips to his shoulders, and she was about to suggest that maybe they didn't have to hear Cameron (because she really hadn't anticipated how many names there were)… when Mr. Rooney called out,

"Fry, Sara!"

and she grinned at Ferris, watching his face for the same twitches of excitement she'd had at hearing his name.

"Frye, Cameron!"

Sloane turned, craning her neck to see if she could see him on the podium, and to her surprise she could easily tell him apart from the others. It was more than just his height; there were plenty of tall guys in the school. It was his very posture and gait.

The figures were all silhouetted from the sunshine, but Cameron was clearly there, striding up to Mr Rooney, and he said something as he took his certificate that made Rooney go still. He walked off the stage, a little springier in his step, and-

Sloane realised there wasn't going to be anybody there for him. She tugged on Ferris' hand, with an impatient, "C'mon! C'mon, we need to congratulate him; lovely to see you Mr and Mrs Bueller, Jeanie your hair looks kickass! Bye!" and Ferris seemed to understand her totally, so the pair of them rushed through the throngs of people, searching for Ferris' friend.

They found him near the bleachers, tossing his mortar board around experimentally like a frisbee, in conversation with a couple of clearly very awestruck sophomores.

Which made Sloane want to smile, because Cameron, to her mind, had never been one of _the cool kids_ , and to see him held in such regard was kind of - funny.

"Hey buddy!" Ferris greeted, slinging an arm around him, and the sophomores' jaws dropped.

"You're friends with Ferris Bueller?" one asked, eyes wide, and Cameron grinned an easy smile,

"Nah, he's friends with me." and he took the required jostling from Ferris good-naturedly.

"What did you say to Rooney?" she blurted, and he peered down at her from over her boyfriend's head, puzzled.

"Huh?"

"Up on the platform, what did you say? He full out went rigor mortis."

Cameron gave her a look.

It was same look as when he'd peeked at her changing in some randomer's swimming pool. She smiled at him, a little apprehensively.

"...I told him 'Pardon my French, but you're an asshole!', just like that."

Ferris doubled over laughing. Actual breathless, rib-aching laughter.

Sloane just tilted her head quizzically.

"Why'd you say it in a weird voice like that?"

Cameron's eyes darted between Ferris, who was gasping for air, and the sophomores, trying to look like they knew what was going on and failing miserably.

"Ferris, you gonna help me out here bud?"

He shook his head, streaming tears from his eyes, slowly coming back from the burst of laughter.

"Uh, well... on the day Ferris, you know, got really really sick, we had to get you out of school to come spend the day with him. So, uh, _George Peterson_ rang up Mr. Rooney and got him to take you outside the steps and meet The Car."

"You imitated _my dad?"_

 _"_ Well I mean, we couldn't just let you stay there all day and Ferris sounds like an angel, there's no way he could pull off a forty something with a moustache."

Sloane's eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm so glad my dad never talks like that in front of me!"

Ferris, who by now had recovered, piped up with, "Oh yeah- Cameron, Sloane, partaaay tonight, be ready eight o'clock. I still don't have a car so Marcel is going to have to be our chauffeur. It's going to be great!"

Sloane agreed, hastily, and pressed a long kiss to Ferris' cheek.

"About that... Annette said she wanted to come."

Ferris blinked at her, dark eyes flashing with the promise of fun. "Sure," he murmured at last.

"Cool, I'll go tell her to be at mine for eight too."

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

 **A/N: Again, thank you thank you thank you for reading my lovelies. Keep reviewing or PMing or doing whatever you fabulous people do to keep creativity alive.  
**

 **Over n Out  
~featheredblades**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Omg. Chapt 4. Thank you for reading this far... question of the chapter for you- What famous person would you like to take to dinner?**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane chewed on her lip, her eyes glued to the clock.

7:53

It seemed horribly unfair that time went so fast when she was having fun, and so slow when she was not.

7:54

She twirled to have a look at herself in the hallway mirror again, checking her outfit. Malcolm pottered around in the living room, and poked his head out to say hello, gazing up at her with both eternal wisdom and crushing stupidity.

"I look ok, boy?"

He stared steadily, sides expanding and shrinking, and promptly sneezed.

"I thought so too."

She didn't know very much about the party other than she was being picked up, it was Ferris' friends, and it was going to be a Good Time. Her mother had seemed a little disappointed that her daughter wasn't going to do the full out Prom Experience, complete with limo and photos and corsages, but since it wasn't actually Sloane's graduation year she let her be free.

7:58

Sloane twirled a strand of hair between her forefingers, twiddled her thumbs, hummed a Queen tune, made her left foot have a conversation with her right foot, and felt supremely judged by Malcolm. She tried to do half time and double time and single time in tempo with the clock, but half time was a bit tricky so she ended up just clapping along with the tick-tock.

8:04

There was at last, a honk, distant. She sprang up as though electric shocked and dashed up the stairs to her parents, pressing a hug to her father's chest (it was football on tonight so he was practically a zombie) and kissing her mother's cheek, before grabbing her purse with cash and keys from her room. She descended back to the hallway just in time for Marcel to knock on the door.

"Hiya, Sloane!" He chirped.

Marcel was a pretty funny kinda guy. He was stacked, thick thighs and strong corded forearms, but it seemed like puberty decided to mature only his body. His voice remained soft and a mild tenor. It meant he was a hit with the ladies, who he seemed to have no interest in apart from playing the field.

This was, of course, what Sloane knew about him despite having talked to him in person three times. A girl's gotta do background checks, ya know.

"Hey Marcy," she smiled at him, "What took you so long?"

"Oh, you know, fish to fry, proms to crash, girls to kiss... -speaking of, you're not the telling type of girl, are you?" It was then that Sloane's eyes detected the pink tint on Marcel's shirt collar. A girl's lipgloss, probably high end from the sheen.

She flushed, waving a hand at him airily. "If I don't see anything I shouldn't, then I can hardly tell on nothing can I?"

He hummed a thoughtful acceptance to that, hands stuffed into his pockets. He wasn't opposed to her being with Ferris, but he wasn't exactly friends with her on his own accord. Sloane took the time to examine him more closely. He'd gone the typical preppy schoolboy route, in a polo shirt and shorts with deck shoes. It didn't give her much more of an indication as to what they'd be doing this summer evening.

"So, where we going?"

Marcel grinned, a flashing wide set of pearly whites, as carefree and All American as they come.

"See, I've just been told to take us all out on the 432, then turn off the freeway third one down, second right and apparently that's where we're met up with."

"Third off the freeway? I don't know anybody that lives out that way?"

"Nor do I, but it's Ferris, bet you he's got something planned."

Sloane tried to visualise it in her head but all she kept coming up with was roads with very little on each side. She didn't think her father had ever really driven her off the freeway to that area before. She shrugged.

"You're right, it is Ferris. Shall we?"

Marcel's grin tugged bigger. "What, no photos with your mom?"

She groaned, rolling her eyes, and stepped out side, pulling the door shut behind her.

* * *

The car ride up with Marcel was actually bearable. His thumbs drummed on the steering wheel, absentmindedly playing tunes his uncle brought over from England. Sloane ran her fingers over her housekeys again and again, reminding herself they were in the side pouch of her purse. She was under no illusions- even if she was five and a half years underage, they'd likely be drinking tonight.

They got off the freeway, and then counted with baited breath the first turn off right, then two left turn offs, then the final right turn off. Marcel stopped the car on the edge of the junction, put the hazards on, and kept the engine running. He looked over at Sloane, excitement making him more childish, "Dare you to take a peek!"

She winked back at him, then turned to gaze out the window at the summer evening, a hint of tension making her breath come faster. It turned out the third exit off the freeway took them into some pretty woodsy areas. Not like where Cameron lived (suburbs with the illusion of privacy in trees) but properly properly rural.

Sloane pulled on the car door latch, anticipation building in her chest, and stepped outside onto the small turn off lane.

 _If it'd been raining my sneakers would have been so muddy by now,_ she mused, peering at the trees.

"Hey, Marcel?"

"Yuh-huh?"

"Can you hear something?"

"Shush a minute."

They waited, her by the car, him still at the wheel. There was definitely something rustling in the woods, a little out of sight. It was coming closer.

"Maybe it's a bear?" Marcel suggested, still grinning.

"Pretty clumsy bear," she joked, but in her gut there was a small coil of fear (sensible fear, just-in-case fear).

 _snap_

 _crackle_

 _pop... oh no wait that's rice krispies. Maybe this bear likes his cereal,_ she thought, smiling a little to herself at the idea of a goldilocks type expanding his food stores beyond porridge to include Coco Pops and Krispies and Frosties.

By now they could see the movement in the forest, branches being pushed aside, a little shiver from a tree knocking off berries or pine needles. It was shadowed in the evening light, amorphous and sure-footed, taking meandering turns towards them.

Sloane was pretty sure she had goosebumps. She waited, chewing on her lip anxiously, the muscles in her legs twitching as though some small part of her said it's better to run! run! run!

"Bears don't like noise," she said casually to Marcel, twisting her head so as to keep one eye still on whatever it was coming closer.

"Should I honk the horn?" he smiled.

"Why not, give it a good scare."

"The Injuns would laugh so hard at us right now..." he muttered, but gave a big shove to the horn on the steering wheel.

A blast of noise. A definite loud crash, a beat of silence. A voice yelling "FUCK!" then helpless laughter.

Ferris made his way out of the tree undergrowth, his knee skinned up dirty and bleeding, but his grin wide and untameable. He bowed to Sloane, mock regally kissing her hand, and waited for Marcel to roll down his window to shove him playfully against the car seat.

"If you keep going on up the road, you'll see a couple other cars ditched there- park wherever you want, man, I'll wait with Sloane and take you through."

Marcel agreed and drove off, leaving Sloane to beam at Ferris, affectionately straightening his collar, "we didn't _scare_ you, did we?"

"Absolutely not," he said, and pressed a kiss to her mouth. It was the kind of kiss that showed intimacy through how easily it was done, how well he knew exactly the angle to find her lips, a motion that spoke of practise and time together. She squeezed his bicep, leaning her head onto his shoulder, then sprung away, arms spread wide, and turned in a circle.

"So tell me," she laughed, "what on earth is this place?"

"Somewhere nobody would mind us being out here", he shrugged, pulling her back into his side. "It's already starting to kick off, there's a couple of people you should meet too." Sloane listened to the rise and fall of his chest, and his perky heartbeat, relentlessly alive. One hand playfully wiggled up the back of his shirt, tracing spirals.

"Guess the letter," she said, smiling at him impishly. Her finger drew a circle.

"That one's easy, an O!"

"And the next?" This time her fingertip made cuts and angles and lines.

"R? no, K? OK?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, gazing at him. "What's happened to Annie by the way?"

"Oh she was talking to Joel anyway so I decided they could go together."

The crunching on the road signalled Marcel's return, so she reluctantly removed her hand.

"Shall we?" Ferris proffered his arm to Sloane, and the three turned and went into the forest. Sloane could see now that they were following a trail of red powder paint- except at points the trail was covered by twigs and branches and leaves, and they had to try and find it again. She bounded off ahead of Ferris and Marcel, so thrilled at finding the trail it surprised herself.

"Come along now Sloane dear," Ferris joked, and she obediently fell back to heel at his side.

By now they could hear music and laughter and there was a light source rippling through the woods and some indignant squeals, all of which signalled to Sloane this was going to be a Great Party. You know, one of the ones that make it into high school myth, the ones that people say happened this year, every year?

"Oh sick man, you actually managed to do it!" she heard Marcel whoop, and she stopped short.

It was a bonfire.

A fucking-pardon her French- fucking _massive bonfire_ , in a clearing, next to a lake. There were hasty tables, and two tepee tents, and speakers- not the small radio or CD players, but big proper subwoofers. Teenagers clustered and forms flickered, through hazy summer air, moving and darting about the flames, silhouetted for a moment then not again, droplets of water spraying into the air whenever someone bombed into the lake.

Sloane took two steps into the clearing, blinking rapidly. It looked like the Parties on MTV.

She glanced at Ferris, watching the wonder grow on his face too, and he mouthed _Better than prom_ _?_ at her. She smiled at him sweetly.

Marcel roamed to get them drinks, finding some kind of fruit punch and strawberry wine being poured from old 50s glass fountains. He came back with four guys that Sloane knew were in Ferris' homeroom.

"Main man!" "Nice of you to join us!"

"Bro... your hair, you look like you took a trip to the vets- did your mom shave you with a 6 or something?"

"How's it hangin dude, I heard-?" "-you know, Save Ferris!"

Sloane allowed their words to wash over her, safe at Ferris' side and looking around with strawberry wine in her hand. She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled when she was supposed to, and enjoyed the company without paying the slightest attention.

* * *

It was almost ten, and Sloane felt the warmth of her alcohol making her dizzy, losing her sense of balance. She was in a crowd, some basketballers and college girls and artists who were all sharing the cartoons they grew up with, and it hit her that she'd been introduced to countless people but she hadn't seen Annie.

"Oh my god yeah, roadrunner was epic! I've got to go and find my friend now but it was lovely to meet you guys," she smiled, disengaging from the group, to a chorus of mwah mwahs and you too!s and you're awesomes.

She went over to the drinks table to grab a refill and tie her hair up high to cool off her neck. She turned, leaning against the table and tried to scout out Annie or Ferris without obviously looking lost. They weren't easily seen, so she wrapped her fingers around her red solo cup, pretending to sip but drinking none of the alcohol, scanning the party.

"Hey," came a low voice from her side.

She twisted her head, and a jolt of warm liquid surprise ran through her as a familiar face loped up, fixing his own drink to her left.

"Hey yourself," she riposted, more playful, "How's it going?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Cameron smiled at her, just the corner of his mouth quirking in his side profile, "You're drunk."

Sloane looked down at herself and gestured wobblily to her still perfectly intact outfit as if to say _what, me?_

 _"_ You must need your vision checked, have you been drinking?"

"Owp, you got me. It's my beer goggles."

There was a lull then, a silence, where they both turned to look at the mass of people shifting moving dancing and drinking, and Sloane took another real sip or two of her drink.

"Have you seen Annie?"

"Who?"

"Annette Feldman. She does cheer with me. She wanted to come along tonight but I haven't seen her, like anywhere?"

"Oh. No, Sloane, I could have talked to her but-"

"-but you're a loner?"

"Oof, harsh _-_ remind me not to get you drunk for compliments..."

"Hey!" Sloane protested, her tongue a little sharper without the dullness of ritual. "I didn't mean it like that! Just, just, I don't see you hang out with these people like, ever. Are you looking for Ferris?"

"That's cause _all these people_ can be morons, and no. I do have a life outside of him."

"That's what an asshole would say."

"Maybe the asshole is just right?"

Sloane snorted to herself, bubbles up her nose and tingly feelings in her fingertips, chuckling at "a goldilocks asshole." Cameron looked nonplussed, like the joke had passed him by.

She stole a glance at him, then continued to look out at the sky, last rays of sunset. She was pretty sure her peripheral vision caught him stealing a glance at her too. But it could have been a trick of the bonfire light bouncing off the water.

"Hey, you'v'n't been in the lake yet!"

Cameron rolled his eyes, musing at the ice in his cup.

"I've already seen everyone I've wanted to in minimal clothing. No thanks."

"Haha why does that sound so... smug? I know, I know...I know you've seen like nobody in my year! An' annnnyway, that's so not what the lake is about!"

He didn't look at her as he downed the last of his refill and poured another. "Quality over quantity. Maybe try thinking about it when you have your half-a-brain back, cheerleader. You can't handle your alcohol for shit."

She pouted and growled at him, swiping out in protest to prove she _could too_ handle her alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, she couldn't. She was much tipsier than she anticipated, and so the swipe out was little more than a limp brush against his ribs.

"Cam'rn…" she mumbled, "You're wrong... I am jus' fine. Perfect outfit y'know."

She could tell he was holding back laughter the way the set of his shoulders stiffened and then juddered silently, and she elbowed him in retaliation. They stood there, watching the bonfire, the flames licking blazing dances over the log pile, the wood charred and burnt and ashen, the sap inside hissing and crackling. And the fact that there were other people there became less important, and they seemed more distant, and she wanted to rub her eyes so she could never fall asleep and end this night.

Unfortunately for Sloane, she couldn't. She had dreams of streams of colour and light, and awoke blearily as Marcel and Ferris carried her up her porch steps, knocking on the door quietly to put her to bed. She curled down into her duvet, snuggling into sheets with a smile on her face and no memories of how she got there.

* * *

 **A/N: So happy we've made it to the end of another chapter. I'd love your thoughts, whatever they may be. Many thanks :)**

 **featheredblades**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Does anybody actually read this far? Or am I just writing all this stuff for myself? Hmmm, questions, questions.**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

And so it was with a full and heavy hangover that Sloane ushered in the summer holidays.

Her mother pretended not to notice and her father was already out in the car when she trod down the stairs, feet dragging along the floor. At least there was going to be bacon at Ferris'.

"Mom, I'm going over to Ferris' today," she announced, crunching on toast that had gone cold. The answering hum from her mother was decidedly unimpressed.

It was possible to get to Ferris' house by walking, though if you didn't cut through everybody's back gardens it took a bit longer. Since it was summertime, Sloane decided that a longer route was probably best, so as to avoid the possibility of a cranky house-owner catching sight of her on their lawns and hollering.

She smoothed out the wrinkles in her miniskirt, deciding it was still good from last night, and sniffed the camisole. It definitely needed to change, so she trudged back up stairs, pulled off her vest and bra to hunt around for a settled for the Freshman Cheer Varsity 1981 t-shirt. It was grey and faded and suited her mood perfectly.

Her vacation homework splayed over her desk and she stopped to pick a paper up, the words _phagocytes_ and _bloodstream, immune system response_ swimming in her head. "Uggggghhh," she groaned, cracking out all the knuckles in her right hand and tossing the paper carelessly back on the desk. Homework could fucking wait.

* * *

"Hellooooo!" she called, pushing open the side gate. The Bueller Rottweiler, BooBoo, lifted his head from his spot sunning on the path. He took a long drag of air through his nose and wiggled his stumpy tail at her.

She smiled and knocked on the door into the kitchen. She could hear and smell the breakfast.

"Sloane!" The door opened and Ferris burst forth, kissing her on each cheek extravagantly, "Our leading lady doth come, to partake in this most ancient of bondings, the break fast."

She was ushered inside to see Mr Bueller nudging grilled tomatoes, while Mrs Bueller read the weekend paper, her feet demurely inside plush slippers.

Ferris guided her to the counter, one hand at the small of her back, and plopped her on a kitchen stool, swinging his feet so their ankles kept brushing.

"Good morning to you both, I'm impressed you're up this early! Jeanie was at the school prom, she stayed over at her friend Felicia's last night and god knows she won't be up for a while."

Ferris shot her a look, a sly one that evoked memories of the first time he met her parents and asked to see her baby photos after dinner.

"Oh yeah mom," he said conversationally, "Sloane was out like a light at ten thirty. Good girl to her core."

"Such an angel," his mom sighed, brushing back her curls. "Why do I have to have such rascals?"

"Because you love us!" he grinned at her, "any good comics in the paper?"

And from there the conversation went, until Mr Bueller pronounced that breakfast was ready, and that they shouldn't leave any for Jeanie as she wouldn't be home for a while.

Booboo plonked himself at Sloane's feet begging for scraps.

"He can sense weakness," Ferris hissed, "Don't do it, once you do it he'll follow you around forever!"

She laughed, and tempting fate, dropped a piece of egg.

The jaws of hell closed around the morsel immediately, teeth meeting with a distinct _click._ Her eyes lifted to meet Ferris' face, gleaming with mock horror. They held a silent staring contest, until Sloane won.

"Cheat!" Ferris crowed, "I demand a rematch!"

The phone rang in the middle of their rematch, prompting yet another do-over. When they finished (Ferris the victor this time,) Mrs. Bueller announced that they were both called to golf with Mr Bueller's boss.

"Ferris, darling," she soothed, "I know you'd just love to come and bring Sloane too but the women's game has only got one space today so I'll make your apologies for you."

The two parents bustled around, made a couple of calls, asked them to relay some messages for Jeanie, and disappeared upstairs to go shower one at a time, all seamless around the two teenagers finishing breakfast.

It seemed in a breathless rush that Mrs Bueller was kissing Sloane on the cheek, still murmuring an apology that they wouldn't be able to join and definitely another summer weekend, and that Mr Bueller was ruffling Ferris' hair with an affectionate, "Bye Champ," and a "Don't forget to walk BooBoo!" and then they were out the door with a slam.

Sloane looked at Ferris.

Ferris looked at Sloane.

"I propose a tickle war," he murmured, "my lovely lady shall be the challenger."

His arms reached out and darted and tickled her, pinching in her sides. She yelped and batted him away playfully, moving to escape and somehow only moving closer into his embrace.

"Hi," he mock growled, voice in her ear brimming with delight, "fancy seeing you here," and Sloane huffed back and twisted to lick the nearest available patch of free skin. It was meant to be a joke, meant to have him pull away shrieking. That wasn't how it played out.

Instead Ferris gave a weak little noise, as though he'd just been suckerpunched, and went stock still.

"Ferris?" she asked, nose dragging along his forearm. He swallowed and rested his head on her shoulder, a puff of air down her spine.

"C'mon, you can tell me!" she teased, "What's up?" she shifted to meet his eyes.

He gave her a half quirked smile, cheeks a little red, and she understood suddenly. Compassion flooded her.

Ferris was always so restrained about _wanting_ _things_ around her- they were almost never in private, and he was the good kind of guy who wouldn't assume that just because she'd done something once she would do it again. She pressed a kiss to his throat, thumb smoothing over the curve of his cheek, affection warm in her gut.

He made that same helpless noise, eyes falling shut, shifting as his hands were waiting for permission to touch her.

"I'll get the secret out of you whatever it takes," Sloane smiled, kissing down to his collarbones. She wasn't sure if she imagined the sharp inhale, but his hands winding through her hair and chapped lips finding hers were definitely real.

They kissed languidly, a silent nonverbal exchange where Sloane gave permission a hundred times over, Ferris asking a little more of her each time, until he felt safe enough to pick her up and carry her koala style up to his room.

Sloane was deposited on the bed. Her fingers crept under Ferris' t-shirt, palm splaying over the muscles in his lower back, reassured by the strength there. He looked down at her to check before pulling his shirt over his head, coming back to steal another kiss from her, relishing in the sensation.

She tilted her head and he obligingly kissed down her neck, tongue trailing along her tendon. Sloane bit her lip, sinking into the urge to pull him in closer for desperately needed friction.

His hands skimmed down her ribs and circled her waist, tilting her just so to nudge her shirt up over her arms.

"No bra, huh?" he smirked, mussing up her hair.

She rolled her eyes, index finger tracing circles over his shoulder.

"I was hungover," she groaned. He swooped in to kiss the mock bored look off her face and explored her body with tentative care, promising to cure the hangover.

* * *

The doorbell rang while they were both occupied.

In a hazy moment when reality hadn't yet crashed back into her head, Sloane rolled off the bed with a lingering nuzzle of her boyfriend's stomach, couldn't find her t-shirt so grabbed the nearest item- a towel of all things- and trotted downstairs to answer the door. She was running her fingers through her hair, fully expecting it to be a mailman or some other nobody. Someone she could shut the door on in under three minutes and then return to Ferris.

Cameron blinked at her from on the porch, momentarily stupefied.

"Uhhh…. hello?" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and kept his eyes on her face with laser focus- which told her he'd already taken a good look at her to see her miniskirt and towel around her chest. "I was gonna stop by for lunch, but I guess Ferris an you are, uh, busy..."

Sloane blushed and glanced over her shoulder at the clock by the door.

"Wow, time flew," she commented to herself absently, "god, come on in, we really should get something to eat."

She made sure to walk with smaller steps than usual so as not to flash him from under her miniskirt, sashaying back to the stairs.

"Ferris!" she called, "Cam'ron is here! Lets get some food!"

Ferris poked his head out of his bedroom and mouthed to her, _but I_ _'ve already eaten._ She smiled back, the private joke, s _o have I._

Unfortunately neither of the young couple had counted in the fact that Cameron could see the exchange and read lips very well (he'd picked it up from Frye Sr., who when particularly apoplectic tended to mouth his rage mutely.)

Sloane delivered a winning smile at Cameron over one shoulder, cheeks still flushed red and hair still messed up.

"If you'd excuse me Cam, I should probably um, find my shirt."

He stammered an assent. Though Sloane and Ferris had been going out a year and a half, he'd never had the misfortune/pleasure to walk in on them quite so _in flagrante._ He wasn't quite sure how to feel about knowing exactly what his best friend had just had going on in his bedroom- the very same bedroom Cameron would spend hours in watching movies and debating about homework and hiding from Jeanie.

 _That knowledge just... blows..._

He very firmly tried to push the thought out of his mind and instead headed into the kitchen to see what food there might be.

Sloane found her shirt on Ferris' keyboard. Her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her, playfully teasing her breasts as though to remind her they had unfinished business, but he didn't protest when she found the self-control to slide the Freshman Cheer Varsity logo over her chest. She sighed, leaning back into him for a moment before collecting herself and heading to the bathroom to splash cold water over her cheeks and sort out her hair. It was a hot enough summer day without all the extra spice.

It was only while she was sliding on her underwear that she started to get mortified about what Cameron knew. She talked to herself sternly, trying to quell the blush that would not go away because now he knew she was the kind of girl that gave head and now he knew that her and Ferris had gotten to that stage and he must think she was easy and god what if he told someone like the cheerleading girls?! OK maybe not the Cheer girls, as far as she knew Cameron didn't speak to them, but he talked to some guys and word would get out and...

As she stared in the mirror, brushing her hair determinedly, she reflected that if what her and Ferris did today became common knowledge, Ferris would get backslaps and she'd get social censure. She had to make sure Cameron wouldn't tell anybody.

With the plan fixed in her head, she tumbled down the stairs, letting Ferris come out of his zone at his own pace, and came across Cameron chopping up cucumber and tomatoes with the radio playing an analysis of the Lakers v Cubs game. He kept his attention on the radio and the kitchen knife, only giving a nod to acknowledge her re-entrance.

Sloane gathered up her courage in one slow inhale. She came over to stand next to him, close enough to brush alongside his shoulder. He was wearing an off-white crew-neck top and Bermuda shorts.

"Hey, Cam?" she started cautiously. He hummed in response, never ceasing the chopping. "Um, what just happened upstairs... can we, like, forget that happened?"

He let silence save for the cut of the knife hang for a moment. Sloane got nervous. She started to explain, "well, it's just, I get it must be awkward for you but if you told someone it'd get round school and you know how it is- as soon as a girl does something like, like that... it's really bad for them and I don't want to-"

She was cut off by his voice, dry and carefully contained. "I've seen more than I needed to, Sloane. Don't worry about it. There's Ranch dressing in the fridge I was going to make a salad around."

She was still uncertain as to what he meant by that and moved to the fridge to find the dressing, shooting over her shoulder, "So you're not going to gossip?"

"I wouldn't share that with anyone, thanks."

"Pinky promise?"

He sighed, and the sound of him shifting as she searched in the fridge made her tense up.

A hand waved in front of her face, his warm chest behind her. The ring and pinky fingers waggled, so she obediently clasped them with her own. His skin was warm against hers, but that was that. PINKY PROMISE SEALED SACRED.

And if after Ferris came downstairs, and they made lunch, laughing about Freddie Mercury and Space Invaders at the Arcade, Cameron's eyes strayed to her Freshman Cheer Varsity logo on her chest every once in a while, and if his gaze flickered between her eyes and her mouth, Sloane was ok with that. And if she realised, eating a Twinkie for dessert, that he wasn't really looking at the t-shirt, he was looking at the fact she wasn't wearing a bra - Sloane was ok with that too.

Because she wasn't embarrassed that Cameron had seen her private side. She had been worried about what he'd do with the knowledge of her activities, and with a pinky promise, she was supposedly safe. So she sat there, twirling her hair with one finger, and when Ferris and Cameron both looked at her mouth, she gave a private smile for both of them.

* * *

 **A/N: OK so they're teenagers... some stuff was going to happen. I hoped to keep it realistic interactions- no pwp here. But yeah, not sure if we earned the M rating? It kind of felt necessary for me to show Ferris and Sloane getting intimate to highlight how Sloane and Cameron fit together. I found it horribly awkward to write so please let me know if it was horribly awkward to read.**

 **Plz rate n review n read, it makes a lame person keep walking you through this story. Jks, I'm not lame, I'm really really cool. Promise.**

 **Over n Out  
** **~featheredblades**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: You still with me? No? No? Oh... ok then. Guess I'm writing to ghosts XD**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

When Sloane met up with Gina, Malone and Annette for slushies on the Thursday after prom night, they demanded details.

Gina had just gotten back from the nail salon and the two others dutifully admired her nails. Sloane pretended to but mostly looked at her own ragged French Manicure for comparison and found while it was lacking, it was not enough to bother her.

"Soooo, spill all! How was it?!"

"Did you and Tony do it?"

"Was there really a bonfire?!"

"Girls, girls, stop and breathe! One at a time," Sloane laughed, "Gina, Malone- I want the Prom Post-mortem. Details, dresses, drama. Give me everything good."

Gina and Malone looked at each other as though double checking just what they wanted to share. They traded information, and Sloane listened more intently than if she were in class. Names mentally matched to faces, fabrics and styles conjured in her head. These things mattered while you were in high school. _Not so much once you're gone though,_ she mused.

"...and so she was basically talking to Kenny saying that she had never so much looked at him before in her life and didn't know why she'd say that about her and she was obviously just trying to stir up things, you know?"

"Yeah I totally agree,"

"Uh-huh that is just so... so cruel."

"Hey- did you hear? Apparently Linda Cruz lost her v-card at the prom in the janitor's closet!"

"What- with whom?!"

"That's the best bit," Malone said gleefully, "It was with a freshman!"

"Ugh, _classy._ " Gina said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Tony asked me if we would. Of course we will, but I said no. If I'm gonna do it, I'd better be drunk off my face and have rose petals everywhere and make it all tasteful and shit."

"What, prom didn't meet those standards?"

"I was drunk off my face but no rose petals, babe. Besides, that's just so cliché- everybody tries to lose it at Prom! At least my experience is gonna be better than in some stinky closet, ugh. What a whore."

Sloane looked at the floor, holding herself together for a moment. _Whore._ She took a long drag of her blue slushie and cursed at the brainfreeze.

"You alright, Sloane?"

She laughed, gesturing to the cup. "I got cocky.." And turning to Annette, "Oh yeah, Annie! I kept trying to look for you but I didn't see you at the party- Did you get there in the end?!"

Annie proceeded to gush about this guy called Chris who was amazing because he had really soulful green eyes that reminded her of a caterpillar about to hatch into a beautiful butterfly. ("He just, y'know, looks like he's full of potential- it was so mesmerising...") He was a friend of Joel's who went to another high school in Chicago and he liked to play the ukulele. He'd said he'd write her a song- he was really experimental, right now he was working on a disco-ceilidh fusion.

Gina raised an eyebrow and said sceptically that he certainly sounded unusual. Malone agreed, nodding sympathetically. It was early days, she offered gently, so at least they'd have the summer to kind of figure out where they stood.

Finally, Gina nudged her in the ribs and none-too-subtly took a slurp of her blue flavour.

"My red one is better," she pronounced, and then realising who was the object of her focus, "Please tell me you didn't have nearly as much fun at your party as Annie. I don't think I could handle hearing Ferris described as a blooming caterpillar...".

Sloane smiled, the party from a few weeks before already faded a little in her mind. "It was a good night, lots of nice people to chat to. No caterpillars, just a couple of social butterflies."

Gina cocked her head to one side, waiting. "...that's all you're going to give me? 'nice people to chat to'? Come on, where's the gossip!"

Sloane belatedly realised that this was part of the reason why Great Parties were so legendary- people who actually went to them were not so forthcoming with detail. A lesson to file away for the future, she mused to herself, reticence sparks interest.

But Sloane had no vested interest in making it a legendary party, so she shrugged one shoulder in a spare elegant movement, and told them all that it had been fun there had been a bonfire by a lake but she got so drunk the last she remembered was chatting to Cameron and then waking up in her bed.

Malone smiled a Nice Smile, and it took her a second to remember that these were Nice Girls that she hung out with - they so rarely behaved Nicely when it was just the four of them that it was easy to forget other people considered them to be polite and proper and well-mannered. The kind of girls you could take home to your parents. A good trophy wife, perhaps.

" _Marry me,"_ Ferris' voice rang out in the back of Sloane's head unbidden. It wasn't a proper proposal but she trusted he could be conventional when the time came to ask officially. He was so sweet sometimes.

"He's very attentive," Gina said diplomatically, and the other two girls agreed along with her- oh Sloane must have said it out loud. "Don't you get third wheeled a lot though, by that other guy? The tall one, wears hockey jerseys a lot? That must kind of suck not having Ferris focused on you all the time."

"He must be a man destined for great things," Annette chimed in, "My mother always says 'behind every great man is a great woman'!"

Sloane twirled a strand of hair while she answered, slowly- They must mean Cameron. Well, they didn't know each other that well really, didn't hang out that much apart from with Ferris but Ferris was very good at making it so she had never once felt like Cameron was an intrusion on her and Ferris' relationship.

 _Not even,_ she realised, _on the morning after the bonfire party._

That was a shocker.

She stood up a little taller, lost in her own thoughts, and then all at once a question formed on the tip of her tongue and she opened her mouth to ask it- No. Not the Nice Girls. They wouldn't give her a good answer.

"Listen, I- um. I gotta go. Does anyone have Josephine Sparrow's number?"

"The nurse's daughter?"

"Uh... no way- I mean, I'd never noticed that connection before- are you sure?"

Annette saved the day by being as socially vapid as ever. "I don't know but she's going with Kurt and he's in my homeroom and he walks her home off 34th so they're somewhere around there. That's not too far away actually?"

"Thanks, Annie, you're a star- I, um, she borrowed a Biology book from me last semester and I just realised I'd need it before she goes out of town for the holidays. I think she leaves soon."

Thankfully, the Nice Girls didn't buy it 100% but didn't question her on it either. They simply air kissed goodbye and carried on talking as though her absence didn't change anything, which, to be fair, it didn't.

Sloane went walking, enjoying the summer's day, but the question pressed down on her. She wondered if she might be better off going to church but she felt like they'd give the same sort of prescripted answer as the Nice Girls.

Florence Sparrow, in the handful of times Sloane had met the woman, did not seem like the sort to give a prescripted answer.

* * *

She rang the doorbell and waited in the hopes that someone might answer. A six year old, whining loudly, came to the door first.

"Hi, do you know where the Sparrows live?"

"Oh no I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," and shut the door.

She shrugged and moved on, two houses away so it didn't look like she was going to try every house because that would be weird.

A couple who were clearly mid argument answered her, not knowing, then an insouciant smoker, followed by a harried man who 'couldn't stop now' because his wife had sent him for groceries.

It turned out to be quite entertaining.

Fifteen doors later, eight of them answered, and the brassy voice of Jo Sparrow sounded a "Mom! The door-bell's gone off again! Can you get it or this toast'll burn!"

Sloane looked up into the kindly but surprised face of Florence Sparrow.

"Nurse Sparrow?" she said, "You probably don't remember me, you look after a lot of students."

"Oh I remember you, little lamb," she said, voice grave, "Your grandmother passed away only a month or two ago. How is the family holding up?" Sloane couldn't hide her wince, but thankfully it was interpreted as a sore spot by the matron, who opened the door further.

"Well, you'd best come on in- can I get you a coffee? My eldest is just about making some toast for Jeremiah, he'll be back from baseball shortly".

"Something to drink would be lovely," she smiled, and stepped inside delicately, looking around her. Florence bustled around, affectionately bantering with her daughter and hollering up the stairs for a younger child, taking ownership of the space the way all good mothers do. She was ushered into a small room that had seen better days but contained two couches.

After a couple of minutes, Florence brought in a tray with steaming mugs on it. It seemed oddly warm for the height of summer but Sloane didn't question it. They settled down, awkward silence for a moment, before Florence asked her why she'd come.

"Not that it's not a pleasant surprise of course," she allowed, "but I don't usually have students of your background come to visit me outside of school hours. Have they started giving out my address now?"

Sloane blushed horribly. She hadn't even thought how strange it might be, only that Nurse Sparrow might be a good person to answer the question that even now was preying on her.

"Josephine is in a friend of mine's classes and they said she lived around here- I was passing by and I asked a neighbour and they knew where you were. I'm terribly terribly sorry I didn't mean to intrude."

"That's alright darling, as long as you can tell this ain't my clinic. What's brought you here?"

She sat in silence and twisted her hands together, wringing out the fingers, pondering how best to put the words together.

"I guess... I didn't know who else to ask this, but- is it wrong if... what if you don't mind someone looking at you if they aren't with you?"

Nurse Sparrow seemed to relax a lot, but her face got more serious. Sloane shrunk into her meek little girl self. She felt foolish for even thinking of asking.

"Boy troubles, is it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll ask you a few questions, darlin'. I don't need names and I don't need places. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Just looking at you?"

"Yes, just... looking. You know... like they're interested, um, physically."

"And you've got somebody with you already?"

"Yes."

"Do they mind about this other person looking?"

That brought Sloane up short. She was pretty sure that Ferris had been too caught up to notice Cameron's eyes on her.

"I don't think so? I don't know if they know…?"

Nurse Sparrow exhaled gustily and folded her arms. She took a big smacking sip of her coffee and pursed her lips.

"Do you want what the school says or do you want what I say?"

"What you say, please."

"Well then... Sloane. You're a beautiful girl. There ain't no denying that. Young men will look at you, more as you grow up. And the Church will tell you it's wrong, but from where I'm standing, beauty is a virtue for a young lady like you, and if you get a rush from knowing somebody's looking at you- no harm in that, do you see what I'm saying? On the other hand, if you're with somebody, you've chosen to be with that person. You've made a commitment to them to be faithful, and breaking that would be wrong."

Sloane nodded meekly. "I think I understand."

"My daughter could tell you more than I could about who goes where and with who on the school grounds these days, and I know there's some new fangled malarky of poly-amory and all that, but beyond that, I don't know that I can help you more than what I've said; remember your commitments, and don't be ashamed you are beautiful, and you won't steer far wrong."

She stood up, and gestured to her still untouched coffee.

"Thank you for the advice, Nurse Sparrow. I promise I won't come around here unless its something really big next time. Say hi to Josephine for me and if anybody asks, I borrowed her Biology book."

The nurse nodded back at her, and sat quietly as she saw herself out.

* * *

From there Sloane took a bus to the public library and arrived an hour and a half before closing. She was too embarrassed to ask the Librarian where she might find the books on 'polyaymori' or 'malarky' or whatever it was, so she drifted through trying to find a category that might be relevant. Whenever somebody came down her aisle, she promptly turned around and pretended to be nose deep in an Algebra book.

She gave up after she was given an odd look for reading the Algebra book upside down, and walked to the reading rooms to sit and have a good think and maybe get distracted by a Steinbeck novel she hadn't come across before.

She was midway through the Red Pony when someone brushed past her with almost the same scent as Ferris had had on _that day_ \- something she was beginning to associate with s-e-x- and her mind immediately wandered back to the same moment where she was sat at Ferris' kitchen counter and they were both looking at her mouth. It was something she hadn't been able to forget.

Cameron hadn't just been looking at her mouth. He'd been thinking about her giving head to Ferris.

He'd promised he wouldn't share that with anyone. So she was safe. But if he wasn't gonna tell anyone, and had sounded a bit cold and restrained, why would he keep thinking about it, about what they'd been doing in Ferris' bedroom?

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd seen her in that state of undress anyway- he'd seen her get changed by that randomer's pool.

A little spark inside her floated, very gently, tentatively, coming to accept the idea that Cameron was looking at her not just because he knew what they'd done, but because he wanted to look at her.

The idea that she might not mind him seeing her like that was already well established in her head. She took it for granted, that she was comfortable around him. But, a small part of her brain whispered, take it one step further. You _like_ him looking at you. You _like_ his eyes on you.

She slammed the Red Pony shut viciously and shook her head, trying to go back to the state of denial, blind to herself.

Denial wouldn't come back.

She absentmindedly traced an index finger over her lips while she stared down at the front cover of the book.

She liked Cameron's eyes on her. Fucking Cameron Frye.

Was it just Cameron?

She didn't know, but she'd liked having him stare at her _with her boyfriend sat right next to her also staring at her._ Fucking Cameron Frye.

She groaned and pushed her hands into her hair, tempted to slam into the table and disrupt the quiet peace of the library reading room. She wasn't feeling guilty she should be feeling guilty why wasn't she feeling guilty? But the memory of his eyes, darkened and fixed on her like a tangible presence, would not leave her head.

What if it happened again and Ferris was angry? What if it happened again and Ferris wasn't angry?

She'd liked both their eyes on her. Oh god, oh god, that made her a whore. But Nurse Sparrow had basically said it was OK to look and not touch. She liked Ferris touching her. He was sweet and considerate and showed he cared about her a thousand times over.

This was all too much teenage drama to handle. She resolved not to think about it and in a fit of frustration, sulked all the way home, and procrastinated from dealing with the revelations by doing all her holiday homework robotically, barely seeing the meaning behind the text and numbers and diagrams. Dinner with her family was a short and sweet affair where both her parents glanced at each other, concerned, but that barely registered with her. She. Would. Not. Think. About. It.

Malcolm, at last, was the catalyst that brought her out of her mental cage. She buried her nose into his fur and let him drool on her shoulder and huff her into sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: just feel I should pop a disclaimer in, Nurse Sparrow's views on relationships are in no way my own. I presumed that monogamy is default at this point in the 80s- in the same way it still is today.**

 **Anyways, whoooooo boy Sloane is struggling with this whole 'maybe I like him' realisation. But give her a break, she's meant to be sixteen in the film and I tbh do not think 16 y/os handle attraction in the same way someone in their twenties can. Plus, the world was way smaller then. They didn't have cell phones or the internet and like, Catholic high school judgement was a real thing. She only knows her friends and local culture. Of course she's going to be struggling with external peer pressure. (read: author is struggling to make a realistic transition between 'omg I love Ferris' to 'omg I love Cam' as was promised in the blurb of the story.)**

 **Over n out  
~featheredblades  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It is XMAS TIME OVA HERE! Thank you for reading this far, please congratulate yourself with a pat on the back and chocolate if you have any haha.**

 **Without further ado, I present to you...**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane hung out with Ferris several times a week over the next month. Sometimes Cameron hung out with them too.

There was one time when they turned on the sprinklers and messed around, jumping through them on the lawn. Ferris dove through the water like an acrobat, leaping and tumbling and commando rolling in mad glee. He dragged Sloane in with him and she fell to the grass laughing, belly aching as the cold water soothed her sunkissed limbs.

There was another time when they decided to teach BooBoo how to play dead. They bought a couple of pounds of pork for the job. It paid to be prepared.

BooBoo was a Rottweiler of unusual stubbornness. It took Sloane scratching him into oblivion to be more compliant and open to training. She sat on the steps of Ferris' side door, the dog puddling across her lap, muzzle against her chest. Hot dog breath breezed along her neck whenever she found a particularly good scratching spot.

There was a day when Jeanie took her to the mall to get the right colour lipstick and Ferris came home after to kiss it all off her.

There was a moment when Ferris was at her house for dinner and her father swapped sugar for salt (he would swear by accident later on) and the mustard for custard (that was the intended joke). Her mother's face, frozen as she tasted her oddly sweet mustard-sauced-steak, was immortalised in a Polaroid photo. It would hang in her parent's bedroom for years to come.

These were days that made her smile.

* * *

There were also days that drove her mad.

One time when Ferris decided they should go berry picking, so they took Cameron's old white crappy car, and bundled out to the closest strawberry farm in Illinois.

The smiling farmer gal had handed them their punnets, telling them to pick as much as they'd like- they'd be charged by weight whatever they brought in. They weren't meant to eat anything they picked until after they brought it in. Sloane cheered in excitement and immediately roamed across the lines of vines and strawberry patches. There were hedges breaking up the soil. It made for a good game of hide and seek, prowling around and simultaneously finding good ones.

The three friends drifted away from each other, picking and eating when they shouldn't and hollering when they found anything noteworthy.

Ferris had pulled a water bottle out of his bag and carefully dipped his fingers in it, before creeping up to Sloane. Her hair was up in a plait, practical for the heat and activity. His hands brushed the back of her neck, making her shriek and jump up as though electrocuted.

"Ferris!" she protested loudly, startling a couple of birds. He just laughed at her and tugged her down to fall against one of the hedges.

He rummaged in his punnet and pressed a strawberry to her mouth. She bit into the sweet fruit, savouring the juices. His gaze darkened a little and his hands encircled her waist, thumbs brushing under her white t-shirt, feeling the slope of her hips. It was a silent moment of tension where he waited, watching her watching him. _Please?_

She exhaled and shifted minutely. _Yes._

His fingers slid up her ribs, t-shirt bunching a little to show a few more inches of flat stomach. But otherwise she remained decently covered. Ferris bit his lip, watching her as his hands cupped her breasts under her bra, before pushing it up out if the way, letting his touch have free access hidden under the shirt.

He drew delicate circles on her nipples. The touch was good, little sparks that she wanted more of, but she kept her eyes open to watch him. To take in the way he grew flushed, and his mouth parted slightly, and she could see him want her.

The sound of feet crunching in the dirt startled Ferris out of his little daze and he quickly removed his hands from under her shirt, springing away and forcing an innocent expression over his face.

"Found one thats all weird shaped like a butt!" Cameron's voice announced proudly. He held up a fairly odd looking strawberry and munched another one blithely.

Ferris grinned weakly at his best friend and made an excuse about looking for weird shaped butt ones in the next row over. Sloane was pretty sure he was just trying not to get caught with his one-eyed snake firmly up and about it.

She stayed however, shaded from the summer sun by a strip of hedge-shadow, one hand tossed over her face.

"This is the life," she sighed, and Cameron came over closer. His tennis shoes stopped by her knee and a hand descended to offer her get-up-help.

She took it, dusting off loose dirt on the back of her jeans as she stood. They shared a smile, and then Cameron's gaze shifted lower for a fraction of a second, clearly realising what he'd just interrupted.

Ah. Ferris hadn't put her bra back down. She had weird lumps above her boobs no doubt and everyone would think she was going to die of all weird known and unknown diseases.

His eyes returned to her face, as if checking her expression.

"Yeah, I could get used to this," he said, gesturing expansively.

Then his eyes went back to her chest. The sunlight made him glow from the side. It also made her nipples, still standing bold from the earlier attention, visible through the white t shirt. She smiled up at him, blushing a little, and didn't bother to fix her bra until he'd turned away.

He hummed, and dropped a strawberry on her head playfully. The moment was over.

 _Whore_ , her mind sung, _you want him to keep looking. How can you be so fickle!_

 _it was an accident!_

 _Sure..._ but she immersed herself back in the present, adding a cheerful descant into whatever his song was.

Ferris crouched, arms full of strawberries, trying to decide which ones were the nicest to feature in his punnet. He waved at her as they drew nearer, knocking over a couple of prospectives in the process. She grinned, his joy spilling over to her.

The three of them fell into step naturally, feet synchronising together as they came close and walked shoulder to shoulder back to the weigh in station. Sloane looked over at Ferris, at how he lengthened his stride a little and how Cameron shortened his, how smoothly this assimilation happened without words or conscious thought.

They worked well together.

She pondered that for a moment. Let the idea sit in her head as she proffered her punit, thanked the lovely plump lady as it was weighed and paid for, and leaned back against the wooden stall.

Ferris was chewing on a strawberry loudly, puffed cheeks like a chipmunk. Cameron was imitating him. Both of them made her smile, affection siffusing through her gaze.

A good day, together. Even as guilt at what had just happened poured down her spine.

* * *

There was another time, after she'd just come back from Cheer Camp for a week, when she was nothing but a bundle of sore and knotted tissue, her flexibility pushed and her muscles strained.

Ferris had run over and they sat on the lawn of her house, her fingers brushing through the overgrown lawn, lazing. He tossed a frisbee around, amusing himself and Malcolm while she groaned every time she had to move.

"Maybe I can make you stop whining," he murmured, and she kissed him enthusiastically, the heat pooling in her- but the soreness returned, and her abs protested, and she fell back to the grass with a pathetic thud.

Cameron came round to pick Ferris up for a boy's night out, and examined the scene with the air of Puck delivering just desserts.

"All that pom-pom shaking tucker you out?" he grinned, and Sloane rolled her head slowly to give him a glare. He just laughed, and as Ferris teased Malcolm ("Which hand is the ham in? C'mon, c'mon! Which one? Use your nose boy, I swear Booboo could eat you for breakfast!") companionably plonked down next to her. It was another moment of _strange_ and _new_.

"I'm going inside to find my shoes," Ferris hollered, and she huffed a small "OKAY!" back.

Cameron rested his forearms on his knees, casually relaxed in shorts and an old t-shirt. She was still in her training shorts and top, with sweatpants thrown on top for decency. She wanted to move but she was so tired and sore there was a dissociation between her body and her mind, small but present. She could just picture propping herself up and going inside, could wish and will for it as hard as she liked, but her body stayed prone in the grass. Closed eyes, smell the air, drifting down into nothing and nothing and heavy weight sinking down and down...

"You're really hurting, huh?"

She nodded slightly, a sigh escaping her.

"My mother used to play tennis, before they had me," he said after a pause. "Apparently she was as good as the state."

Her eyes fluttered open a little, to look at him as best she could.

"I never knew that," she slurred.

"She'd come home after a match and be dead tired, like I suspect you are. My old man would take a bunch of lavender and rosemary and throw her in the bath and leave her there for a couple hours. Said it helped her be less annoying afterwards."

"That's real sweet of him...are you gonna suggest Ferris throws me in a tub too?"

"No," he looked away, grinning to himself, plucking a grass stem idly.

They watched the world go by for a minute or two. Sloane pondered exactly how much energy it'd take to get her to her bed. Her mom had told her to go easy on the weights but she hadn't listened and now her quads and her triceps were pushed to failure.

"Ughhhh," she moaned, "I hurt."

"Where?"

"Huh?"

"I said, where? Are you injured?"

"Nah, just... sore."

Cameron looked her up and down assessingly. This would have sparked heat in her, an uncomfortably shameless pride, but now she just rolled tentatively onto one side to see him. Her training top was likely grass stained to heck on the back anyway.

"What were you working on? Splits?"

"I can do those already," she huffed. "Try doing those perfectly timed 50 thousand times over while you're being thrown in midair."

He raised an eyebrow, impressed but not willing to admit it.

"Glutes, hip flexors and calf stretches," he said. "It's the hockey team's bread and butter. They've gotta have really strong hip and knee mobility because of all that torque and rotation on the ice. If you dont mix up your stretches, you fossilize into one kind of movement."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Since when did you become an expert, oh great athlete? You skip gym whenever you can get away with it. Also, for the record, we already do stretch those. I'm not tight, I'm flexible and achey." Cameron must have found something amusing in those words because a little muscle in his jaw twitched but he kept his composure.

"Pidgeon pose?"

"Yup."

"Glute squat?"

"Yup."

"Heel drops?"

"Every goddamn morning, Mr Frye."

"Ok, cool, you've got all the basics."

Anger fuelled her enough to sit up and give him a birdie. He just laughed.

"For the record, no I don't have a six pack and no I don't do school gym because running is, uh, not fun. But I get on the ice more than you realise. Kneel up for me?"

She did, begrudgingly, quads shrieking.

"One knee on the floor, other one up, press your heel to the floor, lean forward to add more weight. Hold it for like, a minute. 30 seconds is for pushovers." He demonstrated and she mimicked. He was only a little less flexible than her, and it hurt to stretch but in a bizarrely necessary kind of way. They swapped sides.

"Good," he murmured, and ran a hand over her sweatpants to check the muscle. She froze, wondering if this was some kind of move-pulling, but his touch remained focused and completely diagnostic, prodding just above her achilles and at the side of her calf.

"Ok, come out of that. Next one, I want you to brace your arms and your top half like you're going to go into a bridge. But we'll focus on the hip flexor, so you'll be like trying to do a bridge but kneeling. This is my weak point one, so I just look ridiculous, but see if you can do it?"

This stretch would be fun. Sloane had always loved doing bridges, even as a seven year old, before she'd ever seen Cheerleaders. It was the antithesis of her normal body position.

His hands this time very carefully placed fingers under the small of her back, thumbs just under her hip bones, and lifted her up, furthering the stretch. It was burning- hot pain ouch too far too far, and she hissed "Too much!" and Cameron's touch vanished. She collapsed back onto the ground, back of her head probably gaining some dirt.

He shifted to form a shadow over her and his thumbs returned to carefully press below her hipbones at the top of her legs, silently making tiny circles as he dug into the muscle.

"Ferris has probably found his shoes by now," Cameron commented, "but just to say, your hip flexors are really strong. Like, freakishly strong. They're engaged when they should be relaxed right now."

It hurt, but good hurt. She sighed in relief, but the touch went away too soon. Sloane instantly craved more, anything just to push the aches and pains out of her body, but the sound of Cameron's car horn proved his point. Time to go.

"Can you show me more stretches sometime? You guys use different ones, it'd be really helpful to give to the girls."

He shrugged, getting to his feet in a fluid motion. "If you really get that beat up after a training camp, you need sports massage, stretches help but they don't work with damaged tissue. I'm willing to bet your hip flexors are overtight from pulling your leg up fifty thousand times."

"Do you know someone who can do that?"

Cameron laughed to himself, looking up to the heavens as though someone had just told a great joke.

"I can do enough," he announced at last, "but if I had Ferris there I could teach him as well. I'm actually going for a game of roller hockey tomorrow but what are you doing the day after that?"

"Probably shoving as many calories into my mouth as I can without disgusting my mother, and sitting trying not to die," she said dryly.

"I'll take Chocolate poptarts as payment."

"Deal."

Cameron had gone round the side of her house, and she'd dragged herself up to her bed. And although she was tired, bone dead tired, the thought of a massage from both boys together kept her mind exhausted and awake.

* * *

It turned out that sports massages were not anything like a spa massage. There was no fluffy white towel, no steaming concoctions, no head wrap or special cucumbers for her eyes.

Sports massages were a thousand times over that needling pummelling aching soreness somehow good and needed dragged and over and over and over her muscle.

Sloane had opened the door to Cameron with his professional, composed and mature face on (she'd privately named it the Hire Me TM look in her head) and Ferris, bouncing full of energy and cheeky sparkling eyes. Ferris seemed to find this all funny, insisting that she stopped exercising two days ago so there was no way she was still hurting.

If only that were the case. Her pectorals were on fire and her core just... ugh. Owh.

As Cameron held up the lavender oil that he'd nicked from his mom's bathroom back cabinet, explaining it needed to be heated a little bit so it could absorb better into the skin, and where were her Poptarts he'd been promised, and if they were going to do hipflexors and calves and ankles she didn't need a special table with a hole in for the face, it was entirely business, with Cameron's eyes staying dutifully on his own hands and the couch and Ferris as he explained what he was searching for and doing.

Definitely a badly healed muscle tear. We're searching for a knot. She's flexible on her calves, more than most people. Watch her face for pain, it'll tell you faster than she can speak.

He was trying to keep the sparks from happening inside her, but he couldn't quite stop them when he turned and asked if she had anything like a spare cheerleading skirt or towel or something. She limped up to her room and breathlessly looked through her sports gear. Her parents were off at the mall somewhere picking something up for her cousins back in Tennessee. She was wondering if this was going to be a breakthrough moment where she did something horribly horribly wrong.

She picked up the short green skirt that she hadn't worn since Senior of middle school. It had been giving and comfortable around the waist, the elastic freedom to move and breathe and stay secure. That was then.

This was now. She looked in her mirror and slipped it on, twisting from one side to the other. God, she looked like someone trying to get into Playboy. She should take it off right now it was absolutely _tiny_ and barely covered her rear!

Or, that small breath of wickedness in her whispered, _you should wear it because its absolutely tiny. It's only your boyfriend and his friend downstairs._

Sloane remembered her Nice Girl friends and pictured how horrified they would be if they saw her practice in that skirt. She thought of Ferris' face, eyes dark and cheeks pink, mouth open and panting. She thought of Cameron and how she had stood shamelessly before him.

"Green for school spirit," was all Cameron said when she came down, "Nice." Ferris looked at her like she was every male high-school fantasy come true, and she lapped it up with an affectionate wink. His jaw dropped a little, and then looked over at Cameron as though to say, _you know he is still here right?_

 _I know,_ she smiled, hopping up on the kitchen counter padded down with towels. Her hair was up and she wore no make-up as if to emphasize the wardrobe choice was careless rather than one puff of teenage daring.

He rubbed some oil into his hands and Ferris did the same and the scent of lavender wafted over to her. Nice, but not erotic or anything. More like a mom's soothing herbal treatment.

Cameron's fingers were suddenly sweeping up a thigh and then round and down along her skin and trailing up a hipbone, trying to get some heat from friction. It hurt. Every press and pressure hurt, exquisitely. She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face and tried not to wiggle. There were patterns and methods to his madness- some longer presses, some small pulses, a deep harder movement.

It was gloriously aching. She loved and hated it, wanted it to end and wanted it to never stop, wanted to move away from it and get more at the same time, not quite there not quite at the right spot higher higher higher-

He pressed down on a nerve and she whimpered.

He began to work down her calf and it was like parts of her she didn't even know were sore started to hurt too. How could someone make your kneecap groan? Make your instep weak? Tension in her achilles, so many leap ups and jumps unproperly released.

"Ferris can try the other one," he said, "You hanging in there okay?" and his voice sounded amused and she wanted to curse him because she was being remade and reshaped by his hands in muffled agony and he thought it was funny _._

"Just fine, _pal."_ She bit out, and sighed when his hands left her. Ferris' touched her other leg, tentative, more gentle. Him she felt the callouses of, could sense his fingers tremble as he tried to feel the muscles under her skin. His knuckles made her spine shiver when he pressed them into the arch of her foot, her ankle being circled and circled and loosened with each touch. He wasn't unpainful, just- uncertain. Or maybe she was more compassionate with him. She could dimly hear Cameron give direction to Ferris in a calm voice, while she grimly endured him working through a knot on her right hip flexor. She tried so hard to relax it made her just as tense.

They finished up working together, both shifting to light strokes, encouraging blood supply to the area, flushing out toxins, lavender permeating the air, until it was just Cameron, hands circling in cloudlike motions from her toes all the way up her calf past her quad and feather light up to her hipbone. She could have sworn his thumb, hidden under her short green skirt, gave one tender circle over her hipbone and a barely there skim along her pantyline. But his face remained impassive and he withdrew his hand and turned to Ferris with a shrug, and she propped herself up on her elbows, startled to find there were tears in her eyes. Tears of relief, of catharsis perhaps.

All she knew was sports massages were not like spa massages, and Cameron was much better than "I can do enough."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading, a happy holidays to you, and hope this was tension enough. Sloane is starting to come to terms with the fact she Likes Cameron, Cameron is... trying to keep his cards close, and Ferris is not as clueless as you think. Having had several sports massages, I tried to bring into it the aspect of dealing with the muscle pain being good but um, it actually does really bloody hurt. Rereading this it almost comes across as masochistic though, (Sloane isn't and I don't want to bring that into this experience) any ideas on how to improve the description would be greatly appreciated!**

 **Over n out  
~featheredblades  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: 2019 is upon us oh my days! How are you going to celebrate the new year?**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane's mother needed to go downtown and insisted that shoes and coats and hats were on the off-season sale.

Sloane therefore had to come too, which was why, as it was a balmy 98 outside, she was trailing behind her mother, arms laden with puffers and down quilts and snowboots, listening to the store voiceover tell her not to forget sunscreen.

They made their way to the checkouts and she suppressed her groans at the thought of having to carry all of this _home again._

As they waited in line, her mother nudged her, smiling and happy.

 _You're only happy because you're blissfully burden free,_ Sloane's inside voice snarked. But she smiled and nudged her mother back again. Her mother laughed, pleased, and then frowned, trying to recall something.

"Isn't that...oh, I forget her name, she was in Kindergarten with you?"

Sloane looked over to see, to her vast amusement, Louisa Franklin from her first grade classes. She was similarly laden down with winter sales, and her mother was also squinting over at them, as though she couldn't quite place Sloane and Mom but they were familiar.

"It's Louisa, mom," she grinned, "Wow she's grown up pretty! Lets get this stuff through check out and go say hi."

They meandered closer, and Sloane was pretty sure Louisa could remember her too, judging by the flash in her eye and the assessing look. Ten years was a fair amount of time to change someone.

Louisa had lush waves of auburn hair, and apple-round cheeks a little flushed in the heat. Her wrists were chubby, but her fingers long and delicate, and it was a far cry from the frizzy haired plump child she'd known, with the loudest cry in the playground.

"Hi," Sloane said tentatively, "Louisa, right? You probably don't remember me but I think we went to-"

"-school together a while back! I thought I knew you from somewhere! Slow-anne?" she replied.

Sloane winced, "Just Sloane these days."

"Ah, sorry," Louisa said, sounding not sorry in the least.

"So yeah, how've you been?"

"Good, yeah, and you? Still in high school?"

Sloane kind of couldn't understand that question. They were in the same year at school, of course she'd still be in high school if Louisa was too!

She smiled and nodded awkwardly, and shifted her giant carrier bags onto one hip. Their moms were still talking but they stood there in silence for a moment, done with catching up as much as they wanted to. So, since it would be rude to leave, Sloane pretended she was interested in what the mothers were talking about.

Unfortunately, they seemed to be getting on famously.

"Yes, well I've just found these electric blankets for $25, can you believe that? It's almost as good as Goodwill."

"Oh I know Mark doesn't ever want to make the shift back but we used to have them when I was a little girl, those storage heaters? Nothing's quite as effective these days."

"I know just what you mean- listen, I've got a couple more things to do, errands about town, you know-"

"Oh yes, us too- Louisa's brother's got a growing spurt to put weeds to shame,"

"Well shall we let the girls organise a catch up later then?"

"Sounds lovely! She remembers primary with such fondness!"

Louisa and Sloane looked at each other, stiffly. Fondness did not seem to be very accurate.

But then Sloane thought of _all the bags_ she would have to help carry.

"Mom," she said, switching arms with her bags, "me and Louisa could hang out now! There's a café round the corner we'd be near to everywhere you need to go, pick me up when you're done?"

"Delightful!" Louisa's mother smiled, clearly pleased that the children were getting on. "It's always so nice when you find old friends again. Wouldn't you like that, Louisa?"

Put on the spot like that, she couldn't say no, and nor could Sloane's mother.

So she awkwardly waved goodbye and the two teenagers spun around, looking at each other.

"Uh, did you have something-" Louisa began, but Sloane beat her to the punch.

"Sorry about that," she explained, "I really didn't want to help carry any more of those goddamn off-season-sale bags. You were a ticket out."

Louisa lit up with a laugh, surprised and amused by her bluntness.

"I wasn't going to say anything but you are so right, I was getting tired of being a grocery cart."

"Plus, my friend Gina says there's really good cake there. I want to try for myself."

These two pieces of information seemed to be the spark for friendship, stilted at first but growing more comfortable as they walked out of the mall. Louisa, when she was considering if you were worth her time, was actually the same lively child she'd remembered. Back in Elementary, her imagination was weird and overspilling and broke the rules of the games they normally played. But now, she'd learned to keep it better, so it was only wit that shone through, peeking out in an odd turn of phrase or the way she asked questions. Questions like, _ok, what would your useless superpower be?_ and _If you say that, that means you're creating a new stereotype_ and _the music in this store is definitely designed to evoke peacock strutting._

The café was in fact inside a bookstore, on the third floor. Louisa quite naturally, without any sort of contrivance, suggested that they continue their conversation but only by pointing to book titles.

" _In the Past"_

 _"Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten,"_

 _"Don't Judge a Book by its Cover and 13 other PR myths,"_

 _"How Perception saved humanity,"_

 _"Stop deluding yourself; ways to get success"_

 _"Can I get a coffee instead: my dream diet,"_

 _"The Girl who dreamed her life away,"_

 _"The girl who kicked the hornets nest,"_

 _"A practical guide to Bee-Keeping,"_

and they wandered through the shelves and nooks and crannies, trying to find the perfect books for their slowly degrading conversation, pulling out ones they thought were funny.

" _Narcissism, Vanity and Beauty; being viewed through the Male Gaze,"_

 _"The harsh truth about your beauty!"_ Sloane riposted, rifling through the self help magazines section.

" _Beauty is skin-deep, Attraction is 100%"_ Louisa found, snorting at it, wandering off to another section to find her next arsenal of responses.

Sloane was about to follow her when her eye caught upon _"Two men fighting over you? Why you might not have to choose..."_

She rolled her eyes and walked away but later, after their cake and coffee, and Louisa's mother picked her up first, she wandered back to the same aisles.

Cameron and Ferris definitely weren't fighting over her. As far as she was concerned, she loved her boyfriend and did stuff with him, and Cam just happened to see a lot of her and she liked him looking at her.

His eyes on her chest flashed in the back of her head.

Ok, she liked him thinking about her in that way. Just a little bit.

That was it.

She still stuffed the stupid magazine down her shirt before her mother came to pick her up, laden with even more bags.

* * *

Her mom was downstairs preparing dinner and her dad was finally mowing the lawn. Sloane was sat on her bed cross legged, the magazine before her. She examined its glossy contents page, flipping through beautiful adverts and models and articles on other things.

**** BENEFITS OF BOTH ***

Still can't choose between your guys? Finding you're so easily swayed with one, and then as soon as you're with the other you're in their spell? Don't fret! Don't be filled with regret! Own your own woman, and know that you can date both at the same time!

Men find women who take control and know what they want sexy. Being in charge is a refreshing change for them; you'll stand out from the rest. And it means you get to choose the best man for you, without being forced into anything too soon. Men love a competition and having to work for your attention- the other guy makes them try harder- And, should you play your cards right, you could feel some amazing sensations...

A threesome means sex among three people. It can be two guys and one girl, two girls and one guy; however you want it. The idea is to make sex more interesting by adding a person to it. Still, a threesome is not something easy to pull off. In fact, only a few manage to do that.

Obviously, you will get to have even more fun than having sex with just one partner. Think about it; you are having sex with two people at the same time. And if you are bisexual, you may even experiment your fantasies. Not only that but you get to meet two great people that might be willing to give it a second try.  
However you look at it, if this works out, you will get to live your sexual fantasies. Even if the threesome doesn't work, at least you found some people that are willing to try new things, and that is a rare thing. Keep them close for future bedroom adventures.

Also, it is a great ego boost. If you are a woman and find two guys that find you physically attractive, then you know that you are hot.

When it comes to a threesome, you need to accept the idea, even from the beginning, that there is a rare chance that you will find people willing to do this. It can be awkward, and no matter how much porn you watched and how much you choreographed the situation in your head, reality will interfere with what you want. Some men cannot handle two women. Some men won't even participate if the third person is another man, unless both of them are bisexual.

But... dating two men is a good way to start!

**END OF ARTICLE**

Sloane read the article with a face burning, and promptly chucked it in the bin. She paused and then threw other bits of paper in the bin to cover it up.

How would that even work?!

She wanted to distract herself and wipe it from her memory permanently. She buried her face in her hands and tugged at her hair and then rolled over to search for something desperately more interesting than that.

The problem was she seemed to have a habit of finding things that were disturbing to such an extent they stuck in her head. She tried to go through her Hamlet copy but the words blurred and her stuffed teddy just seemed to be judging her, and she didn't want to put any more make up on because then she'd have to look herself in the eye and acknowledge she really really had just read about _three people_ having sex.

The line about 'two guys finding you physically attractive' floated in her head as she went through supper. She did her best to keep a straight face and laugh at dad jokes and tell them stories from cheer camp and what Louisa did, even as the sports massage experience came up and she wondered dimly if that would be what it was like, all painful for her first time.

Ferris would be gentle but if Cameron's hands were anything like that day they'd be all harsh and prodding. Or maybe not, how easily they synchronised strawberry picking resurfacing. She shivered and realised that her mind was quite comfortably thinking about it, filling in the blanks and what she did not know with blurry planes of flesh and vague timeskips.

She was actually thinking about sex with Cam and Ferris. Oh god. Oh god. This was worse than before. _Whore._

Maybe if she just drowned herself in Ferris she could ignore Cameron.

Which was why, three days later, Ferris' parents out at a work function, Jeanie with friends, she was on her knees, Ferris' hand in her hair as he sat in his swivel chair.

He was looking down at her with an expression so fragile and exquisite she wanted to keep it forever, when the house phone on his desk rang. With a sigh he picked up, fully prepared to answer his parents.

"Oh hi, Cam," he said instead, "...yeah... that's great!... uh huh... yeah- um...-" Sloane looked up at him from her task, hand resting on his thigh, "I can't..."

And a change came over him, from whatever Cameron said, a small frown in his brow, and he held the phone quiet for a moment, so that the sounds were audible across the line.

"I'm... uhhhh...sick. Yeah. Sick..." he muttered, barely pretending, and hung up.

His eyes had never left her the entire time.

She sat up and pulled away.

"He told me to put you on the phone," Ferris said, slowly. "When I said I can't he just said 'sure you can I double doggy dare you.'"

She huffed, amused, one eyebrow raised. "Double doggy dare?"

"It was like a middle school thing. You absolutely had to do it. But anyway, why would he double doggy dare me on something as small as that?"

Sloane shrugged, pushing her sleeves up past her elbows casually. She wandered over to his keyboard, idly playing Chopsticks- that universal anthem of those who do not play piano.

"Inside joke?" he said, a little suspiciously.

"No? Maybe he just wanted to say hi."

"He wouldn't double doggy dare ya over that- the last time he used it I had to rev old Murray's car until the engine blew up. That's a double doggy dare, right?"

Sloane shrugged again, switching to Greensleeves and then Once in Royal David's City.

"Don't know, talk to him about it. How old were you when you blew up the car?!"

He smirked, something unlike him, and it felt a little forced when he came up behind her and said, with an exaggurated leer, "Old enough to show you a good time,"

But she laughed along with the joke anyway, because that's what good girlfriends do, and his hug was warm and soothing and like home. And the resulting nap was even nicer, with Jeanie coming home and taking Polaroids of the two of them, sprawled out on Ferris' bed, dressed and innocent.

* * *

 **A/N: yeah yeah thanks for reading, this is turning into smut. eek. I can't stop it. I tried but the crucial plot point seemed be that Sloane gets a rude awakening into the possibilities out there. There will be a chapter of a more emotional connection with Cameron- it is there all along, she just doesn't see it because atm she's trying to see Ferris.**

 **Who actually used double doggy dare ya? That was genuinely taken from my childhood.**

 **~over n out  
Featheredblades  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: 2019 BIATCHES! I have never been more excited to share with an audience of basically nobody. But at this point its more so I can say I've actually completed this story- y'know, like a personal NaNoWriMo, just not in November. Thank you for the prompt about 'first time'...**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

Sloane was invited to go to a music gig with Gina and Annette and Annette's cousin, Cora. It was Cora's idea, and she tended to get what she wanted, so Annette had decided to soften the blow by adding on her friends.

The three highschoolers met up beforehand and trawled through the mall, searching for beauty parlour stands. _Blue Mascara was in this season, had they tried this rouge, what about these perfect curls?_ Sloane sighed at the superficiality of it.

Come the next lady to approach them with a beauty product and beautifully manicured hands, she took action.

"Oh gosh I love this range," she squealed, pulling Annette and Gina closer on her arms. They too obligingly drew near to see what was going on.

"Yes, well our face cream retails for $17.99 and let me tell you, it's got this amazing ingredient called- "

"That's lovely, thank you so much," Sloane beamed, doe eyes on in full force, "But oh I'm looking for something specific- do you have any Confidence? I've been trying to find it for weeks!"

The saleswoman stopped up short. "What's the product name?"

"Confidence! It just goes with everything, really brings out your inner beauty. My mom told me she never leaves the house without it."

"I don't know if we carry that, is it a cream? perfume?"

"Oh, well, I know you used to! Would you mind checking in your stock room?"

"Of course not! Wait a moment!" and the lady beetled off to the back of the mall.

Annette burbled happily that she wanted to try some too.

Gina just looked at her, _how can you be such an_ _airhead_ going unsaid.

Sloane smiled, a wickedly playful smile. "They'll be looking around for _ages;_ if a customer actually asks for a product that's like blood in the water for sharks."

"You're comparing make-up assistants to sharks?"

"They both have lovely shiny skin and overwhite teeth," she shrugged, before acquiescing, "alright, its like blood in the water for nursing sharks with powder foundation on."

Annette giggled at the image.

"I need a darker foundation shade," she sighed, "I tanned at Cheer Camp and now it makes me look washed out and like a ghost."

"I'm not actually after anything today," Gina admitted, "I already know what I'm going for looks wise, I just couldn't bear to be at home in case Tony rang." She was immediately given two concerned looks, and Annette moved closer to be at her side in case emotion brought out a sudden swoon. (It had been known to happen, but the last instance was 7th grade.)

"What happened? Did you guys fight?" Sloane gently prodded. Gina chewed on her lip for a moment, hands fiddling with the zip of her purse. It was unlike her to be so unconfident in herself, that this signalled to Sloane she'd obviously done something she thought was very wrong.

"Well, his mom walked in on us."

"Oh my god, you didn't!"

"Oh my god you did it!"

The two exclamations rang out at the same time, followed by Sloane and Annette exchanging mildly amused looks before returning to the matter at hand.

"Did it hurt?" Annette wanted to know.

"Did it hurt?" Gina scoffed, "it hurt when I had to run into the bathroom with nothing but a towel and have my clothes thrown in later." The glimmer of spark returned to her when she realised her friends weren't going to judge.

"Tell me everything," Sloane said, "but first, Annette needs her foundation and I need a chocolate milkshake with sprinkles on."

Purpose defined and set, they tore through the beauty store, strategically locating the foundation and the nearest till point, and walked out with linked arms to the nearest Dairy Queen.

Annette found them a table and while they ordered, Gina reached over and squeezed Sloane's shoulder. She didn't say anything, but Sloane heard loud and clear the _thank you for being here_.

Gina made sure to steal a sip from the other two girls' milkshakes before launching into her tale.

"I mean, you know Tony and I have been going for a while- and normally I get bored of guys like him, but he's just- right. You know, he feels like coming home. And he's been kind of pushing for us to try sleeping together for a while, and I kept telling him no way, not til I'm drunk and there's rose petals and all that. But- well, we were watching a tape, and his mom's cooking pasta, and he starts kissing me and just- I just knew I was ready. So we were doing it, and his mom must have called out that it was dinner time, but we didn't answer obviously because, uh, busy, so she came up the stairs to fetch us. Opened the door and I screamed, had to run into Tony's bathroom to hide."

"God, that must have been so embarrassing," Annette giggled, covering her mouth with a hand.

Sloane was more interested in how she knew she was ready.

"I just wasn't self conscious anymore, I knew I trusted him enough to enjoy it, and if I didn't he'd take care of me," came the reply. Sloane shifted in her seat and took another slurp of delicious delicious milkshake. Dairy Queen were doing ok on these, she'd rate it a sold 7/10.

The conversation shifted to moms and music and Cora- Annette could rant for days about how Cora managed to be such a spoilt little princess.

"- and she's not even 5"2!" she kvetched, "Those heels made her look like a whore and her mom still said OK!"

"At least she's got good music taste, my cousin's six and she likes Cindy Crawford. On repeat. In every car trip." Gina winced, clearly recalling bad memories. "But anyways, what do you reckon this gig is going to be like?"

"She _claims_ the Bloodhounds are amazing. I don't know, probably some post-punk pop band with far too much guyliner. What is it with those guys, I mean I'm all for a decent cateye but they just look like Cleopatra!"

Sloane rolled her eyes. She had been hoping to go thick on the black eyeliner just before they went into the concert- her liquid one was safely in her purse but it had a bad habit of smudging so she hoped to put it on as late as possible.

"Cleopatra was the queen of Egypt. As far as women go, she was rockin," she defended, and Gina widened her eyes at her _what are you saying_ heresy.

"Check out the Bangles then, I heard them on a radio when momma took us to New Jersey to meet the cousins, they had this song that went a little like..." she stuck her arms out, one in front and one behind, bent into right angles at the elbow. "Walk like an Egyptian!" Gina crooned, flicking her hair over one shoulder.

Sloane couldn't hold in the laughter.

"You look so stupid!" she crowed, between hiccups and giggle relapses. Gina grinned gamely, turning to cluck like a chicken at Annette, who was miserably trying to hold her composure. One more 'bruhcahck!' squawk and she was done for, spluttering into laughter, smacking her hand on the table.

This somehow knocked over the milkshake glass next to Gina, leaving a pool of perfect straw-blow dart material on the table. They took aim and fired at each other, shrieking and ducking whenever a shot came too close to their hair or clothes.

The store manager had to come over and escort them off the premises. Annette blushed in mortification, but as they walked out, linked arms, Gina and Sloane shared a smile brimming with teenage invincibility.

* * *

Cora was slightly less impressed.

"Blowing milkshake at each other? Geez that's so immature," she groaned, pressing her palm against her forehead. Sloane had never met Cora in person before, and she was pleasantly surprised. Annette's perennial rants about her cousin seemed to be, while not quite unfounded, rooted in envy.

She was indeed 5"2, with a large wide smile and baby blue eyes. Her heels were sizeable but came with sensible soles- the kind that meant you could actually walk in them for over five minutes. And she smoked, casual cigarette drooping from long fingers, her tone effortlessly intimate. In short, she was _cool._

Sloane officially had a fangirl crush. This was what she wanted to be when she went to college, she mused, someone who carried their self so easily that she could cut through bullshit and propriety and formality. She didn't shake Sloane's hand, she simply bumped a shoulder against her and grinned.

"What are you studying at college?" she asked.

"Do you mean my major or what I'm learning?" Cora replied, with a teasing smirk. Cocky, absolutely, but rightfully so. Her jeans were tailored so the hem exposed her delicate ankles and she was wearing several bracelets on one wrist.

"Both," Sloane tried to reply in the same way- but she felt like a little girl chatting with a panther. "Annette's just told me you're at BU." Cora's gaze flickered to her cousin, and her expression remained artfully positive, but still conveyed that they did not see eye-to-eye on everything.

"I major in Women's Studies, it's a difficult topic to make dinner conversation about," was all she said. And that killed the conversation for a moment, until the smile came back and she started to ask about Sloane's life. In all of about ten minutes the young woman had worked her way through the entire family backstory and was sympathetically nodding about Sloane's mother.

"People who make the wrong sorts of assumptions can be so annoying," she enthused, taking another drag of her cigarette.

"I know, and she always jumps in way too strong about my friends. Like, I bumped into a girl I went to school with and the next thing I knew my mom is like, it's so nice to see you make a new best friend."

"That must be pretty rough, my mother got the same way when I started bringing friends home. She quietened down a lot when I brought a boy."

"Oh no, my mother got worse about that! She's always so nosy asking Ferris a bazillion questions."

An eyebrow quirk, a simmering blue gaze taking her in.

"Not Ferris Bueller? That local hero kid who got sick?"

"Yeah, that's the one", Sloane beamed, prepared to extol his virtues an-

"I'm sure he's nice enough but seems like he's come with an ego complex, don'tcha think?"

"Oh! No, no he's lovely! Really, sweetest boyfriend ever!"

The band at the far end of the music hall had stopped warming up and started their last fine tunings. Sloane swivelled her head to start to listen, but Cora seemed so frequent a gig goer she didn't care to pay attention in the slightest.

"I'm going to get a drink and then I'm going to get you three a drink and then I'm going to pass on some life advice like a gassy old preacher." Cora said, stroking her shoulder and strutting away, perfectly at ease in her heels.

Gina and Annette both gave her a look. Annette's look said _and what the hell was that_ , while Gina's was a little harder to read. It seemed like a mix between _this place smells like sweat,_ and _how come you're the favourite._

Sloane rolled her eyes and shrugged, blushing. But she blamed it on the heat of the people slowly cramming into the music hall.

She was just getting lost in people watching, mesmerised by the way a guy's huge afro bobbed as he nodded, when a dark sparkling liquid was thrust into her hands.

"It's rum and coke," Annette informed her as she was given her own. The three highschoolers followed Cora to a spot she claimed had the best view.

The band did start playing. The frontman was attractive, in a sticky magnetic eyes-on-me kind of way, but his voice was a little off key on his higher notes. Sloane noted the bassline was particularly complex, which for her always spoke plus points.

Cora pressed up against her side, breath fanning her cheek.

"How do you like the music?" she said.

Sloane gave her opinion diplomatically, aware that Cora must like the band since it was her idea to go.

Cora grinned, and in a moment of complete lunacy she bit Sloane's earlobe. It was gentle but shocking.

"Don't be nice on my account, I like fiery."

Sloane twisted her head to blink mutely at Cora. In response the older girl just chuckled, lifting her eyes to the heavens.

"I'm not like that, you doofus. Well... maybe I am too, but I'm not after you so relax."

"Then why are you so close?" Sloane challenged, looking at where Cora was melded into her side. There was an instant change in atmosphere.  
Her breath stuttered and an embarrassed crimson rose to her cheeks as Cora gave her a sultry pout, eyelashes long and thick and eyes full of heat as she leaned in closer, her lips just grazing Sloane's neck, and a sinfully low murmur, just enough for the two of them to hear, "because you're fun to tease, and I love rum and coke." She finished by leaning over and actually sipping the drink in Sloane's hands.

A half strangled whimper of discomfort left Sloane's mouth, and just like that, Cora was back to a cool college girl.

Sloane frantically tried to focus on the music, left thoroughly unnerved by that experience. Annette caught her eye in a lull between songs, giving her a look that went _I told you so, isn't she awful?_.

The problem wasn't that Cora was, well, interested in women. Sloane just had a problem with a woman making moves on her, joking or otherwise.

She solved the problem by being closer to Gina, swaying with her arms in the air, bopping along to the beat, letting her rum and coke be drunk quicker than usual. It was pretty blatant avoidance, but Cora seemed to be perfectly composed and only mildly amused. In the intermission where the four of them, hot and sweaty, went outside to get some fresh air, she bumped Sloane's shoulder in only a friendly way, and spent her time talking to Gina, including Sloane neutrally.

Sloane was eventually silently convinced that Cora was not going to put any more moves on her, and allowed herself to be dragged into the conversation. It was going just fine and she recounted what had happened the last time her mother dragged her shopping.

"Louisa Franklin? Did Maria go with her sister to prom, or is that Abby Franklin I'm thinking of?"

"That was Abby I think, Louisa only has a younger brother, Edward."

Cora lifted her neatly sculpted eyebrow, with blue eyes locking in on Sloane again. She almost gulped. Almost.

"She's got one more, he's called George. I dated him for about a year, back in twelfth grade. Brilliant dancer."

"That's sad," Gina pouted, "I'd have given anything for Tony to be a good dancer. They're so hard to find! How come you broke it off? College?"

Sloane watched as something flickered across Cora's face, again banished by her impressive control. She seemed to choose her words carefully, looking mostly at Gina to answer but with a darting glance at Sloane that could have shouted a thousand things, none of which Sloane picked up.

"I did like him a lot but you know how it is, younger siblings get in the way. His little sister was very...distracting. Still, she must be your age now I guess."

Sloane received another quick glance. It hit her just what distracting might mean.

It also hit her that Cora was watching to see if she'd say something nasty about dykes or lesbos or something.

This, for some bizarre reason, annoyed Sloane. She was a Nice Girl. Nice Girls weren't rude to people, didn't bully or torment. So she plastered on a smile as neutral as yellow for a baby, and Gina noticed nothing, and Cora noticed that she had a reluctant ally.

It hit her again about distracting. Louisa and Cora... did it go both ways? What was the actual age gap, like three years? What if Louisa didn't know, should she tell her?

A snort escaped her at the thought. _"Hi Mrs Franklin, yes I'd like to speak to Louisa please- oh hi Wheezy! I just wanted to say, you know that girl your brother used to date? She broke up with him because she had the hots for you!"_

 _That'd definitely go down well._

They shuffled back in, pushing through crowds and avoiding elbows and sharp hips, and Gina mysteriously charmed a man to buy her a couple of beers, which got subtly tossed back to the rest of the girls. Cora simply waltzed up to the barman and with a bat of her eyelashes and a wide grin, more drinks appeared for them.

It turned out the band had also been drinking during the intermission. Sloane howled with laughter when the frontman swayed so hard he knocked his mic off the stand, and when the drummer kept zoning out and carrying on after the end of the song. The bassist at least remained intact, though his cheeks were bright bright red.

"Shall we leave? These guys are fools!" Annette hissed, hair getting into Sloane's mouth by mistake. She made a face to get it out.

Gina nodded, agreeing without a strong opinion, and Cora, eyes swimming with amusement, turned to leave. They wandered out into the darkness, the mild summer evening making their skin shine with moon-glow.

"Thank you," Cora said, when there was a moment that Gina and Annette were distracted.

"It was just the right thing to do," Sloane replied and, an idea dawning, hastily tacked on, "when did you see Louisa last?"

"About three years ago now, why'd'you ask?"

"Don't you want to see her now?"

"To do what, rehash the fact I dated her brother?"

"You aren't curious." It was a statement dripping in sarcasm. Jeanie would have been proud of her.

Cora slung an arm around her so she could lower her voice.

"Look," she began, "what happened there wasn't great for anyone. She was a lovely girl, truly lovely, and I hated the fact that I met her the way I did. But I realised what I was and broke it off just as George was trying to make it serious and the whole family turned against me and Louisa- well, she was just on the cusp of realising, almost a Lolita if I let myself think about it too hard- which I won't. But anyway, I broke it off, and I've gone on and met other women. She's not the only one for me, she was just my very lovely first."

Sloane blinked. Paused. Took in the slight tremor in Cora's voice which hadn't been there before, and the way she took her time between words, considering how to say things. Considering how to mask, and present, and package up neatly something that must have been messy.

"She's got gorgeous waves of red hair," she said, not halting in her stride, "freckles dusted along pink cheeks. Tall and slender now, and come to think of it, I don't recall her saying anything about boys the entire time we had coffee."

Just the sound of their footsteps and Gina up ahead, cackling. Then, just a little hoarse, "taller than you?"

"By about an inch and a half, I'd say," Sloane said, keeping her eyes dead ahead. "And I know you know the family house is about ten minutes drive from Annette's place."

"Hon, I can't go back there- not after- no way-"

"Our mothers are dreadfully keen on us getting along," she continued, "so I fully expect I'll see more of her at some point. It'd probably be easiest if it wasn't just us two though, I might enlist Annie's and Ferris' help."

"Why, you sly bitch," Cora murmured, arm withdrawn from around her shoulders, and Sloane couldn't quite tell if that was approval or apprehension.

It felt like the right thing to do, regardless of what other people thought.

* * *

 **A/N: Mwahahah that first time prompt didn't work quite how you intended I bet... Just chucking in a side plot here, coz Sloane is a normal teen with life beyond just the luuurve triangle... send me inspirations and review and as always thank you for reading.**

 **Over n out  
~featheredblades  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I am facing down that deadly beast known as Procrastination. What's your bad procrastination habit? Do you even have one, or are you a super efficient time management machine?**

* * *

Standing on the Threshold

* * *

The Monday after the gig, Sloane's father decided that she was just maybe old enough to start learning how to drive.

George Peterson was in many ways an egalitarian, liberal minded man who wanted nothing but the best for his daughter. However, he carried a few of his old school Tennessee views, and one of those was that it wasn't proper for young ladies to be tearing up the highway, which was why he made Sloane wait to learn.

She was at the very least, giddy with excitement. She would be able to go where she wanted! She could meet up with the girls! She could drive Ferris around! She could borrow Cam's car!

This exuberation did not seem to further endear the idea to Mr. Peterson. He ate his breakfast stoically, seemingly wondering if he could reconsider.

Sloane sobered up. This was serious. Recognising that, he smiled.

"I'll be back from work early, seeing as it's off season," he announced, "We can take your mother's and find an empty parking lot then." She stood up to take away her breakfast dishes, squeezing his shoulder appreciatively as she went.

He adjusted his tie, watching her spring around the kitchen, restrained joy humming in her step and her energy.

"I'll make you no promises, Sloane-I don't know that you'll be getting your own car for a while. It's likely you'll have to work around us and the vehicles, and I certainly want a no-crash record before I let you in mine."

She shrugged, conditions sliding off her like oil on water. "Any time is better than no time- also, can we take Malcolm to the vets? He's getting kind of fat."

Sloane's mother, dashing by on her way out to work, protested indignantly, "He's not fat, he's just well loved!"

Sloane and her father shared a look that betrayed their deep amusement, managing to hold off the giggles until the sound of the door shutting reached them.

"Just, just- well-loved!" Mr Peterson sniggered.

"That's not wrinkles, that's just cuddles!"

"Oooh, let me burn off some affection!"

"Imagine getting Malcolm to actually burn calories," Sloane grinned.

"If you can get him onto the treadmill in our room, he actually might- so dumb he'll just keep walking... Right, I've got to- got to head after I fetch my briefcase, what's your plans for today? Shall I fetch you from home or will you be with Ferris?"

"I'll be at home- Ferris might swing by for lunch but I'm actually going to try to finish my Biology summer project."

"The 3D model of a flower?"

"That's it yeah, I was hoping I could take some of the old boxes in the rec-room?"

"Sure thing," Mr Peterson said, and kissed her cheek as he went to find his papers.

Sloane immediately headed to the back of the house. There was one place that she hadn't shown Cam when he came around because, to be perfectly honest, it was nothing but clutter and dust. As she opened the door to the rec-room, she sneezed and something fell off a shelf.

"Great start," she mumbled, picking up a torch from a hook by the door and looking around.

She would probably need two or three boxes to cut up and then some Styrofoam cups from the old coffee machine mom used to have and insisted they might still need some day... Ooh there were straws there, they'd make good stamens!

Would off-white housepaint work for petals?

Hand on hip, Sloane shoved her hair into a bun, rolled up her sleeves and decided to get to work. Her cheerleading skills came in useful- at one point she needed an extra hand to steady a tall pile of folders, so she balanced and used a foot. Her weights work meant the boxes she needed seemed lighter than before and she could actually lift the giant metal coffee machine. Gains!

It took her an hour or so to extract her materials from the room, and she carefully made her way back up to her room and then brushed her hair until she was certain it gleamed and there were absolutely. no. mothballs. anywhere.

She had found some toothpicks and was using them as her label-markers, except they kept breaking. She was mid-curse as the fifth one snapped when the doorbell rang.

She opened the window and hollered, "COMING!" before stomping her way downstairs, fingers sticky with glue and her pinkie bandaged from a papercut.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Cora exclaimed, leaning against her doorway with a cigarette pooling smoke above her head. Sloane couldn't tell if the comment was flirtatious or acerbically sarcastic.

"I didn't tell you where I lived," she said, folding her arms. "What can I do for you?"

Cora flipped her hair breezily, sunglasses acting as a headband.

"After the gig I asked Annette where Gina lived and I went to go pump her for information about you."

"Pump her for information... pump her for - for? What are you, a spy? Why didn't you just ask Annette?"

"I wouldn't believe half of my cousin's opinions and nor should you," Cora said, and there was a trace of steel in her voice that Sloane couldn't ignore.

"Well you clearly found out about me," she muttered, "stalker."

"Ahem, your very attractive stalker," Cora protested, and it was back to playful again, "I receive enough interest to know I've got the goods. Anyways, I wanted to talk to you! You got a minute?"

"You came all the way to my house to ask me if I've got a minute?"

"Maybe I like being old-fashioned."

"Except in the bedroom," Sloane shot back, and if it was meant to be a low blow it missed terribly because Cora just grinned, impervious and proud of her sexuality.

"You bet, I could show the boyfriend a thing or two! Anyways, can I come in?"

Sloane begrudgingly stepped aside, unfolding her arms and dusting them off on her pant legs, "C'mon in then, we'll let the flies in if we keep the door open all day. Leave the smoke."

"Nice place you got," Cora offered as she stubbed her cigarette against the wall. There was a companionable silence, broken by Cora's casual retelling of her weekend, and she absolutely would murder a macchiato and shame they didn't do one half as good in BU.

Sloane spun around and leant against the kitchen island, elbows propped onto the countertop, her mug of coffee from earlier still not washed up.

"I'll make us some! I have a gift, you'll see," Cora winked, moving effortlessly through all the shelves and cupboards to catalogue where everything was before she started to brew. Sloane quickly realised that this was a way for her to talk without having to connect emotionally to the other person.

"I just wanted to apologise, I guess, without other ears around, because I didn't want to make you actually uncomfortable. I've come onto people before to, you know, and sometimes there's just people who seem ok with it at first but then totally freak out. "

Sloane blushed and looked down at her feet. "It's fine, really. I just... uh, don't swing that way."

"Have you tried?"

"Is that another come on?" Cora huffed a laugh, pulling out some spoons. Her back was to Sloane so she couldn't read her expression.

"Girl, you are hot, you have a sharp tongue- you'd be fun to play with. But no, that is not a come-on, just an interested question. People are way more open in college. I forget you can't ask in high school."

If it was possible her cheeks got even redder.

"Uh, I just- nothing about that idea appeals to me, you know- I, uh... uh... don't need to try." The back of Cora's head nodded, an almost sympathetic tilt to her shoulders, and she passed a mug of sinfully good coffee back to Sloane.

Sloane took a sip, raking a hand through her hair absentmindedly.

"I get it," the she-devil said, "you're all about the guy ride,"

and Sloane choked on her coffee.

"...this seems to keep happening to me," she muttered, after a few hacking coughs.

Cora had moved to thump on her back companionably, and her perfume, warm and bright, brushed over Sloane's nose. Sloane didn't even wear proper perfume; her mother had said she wasn't old enough yet. Her face scrunched up into a frown.

"That was an interesting reaction," was all Cora said.

She had no idea why it felt like a good idea to tell Cora. Maybe because she was older; maybe because she was clearly not interested in Ferris (he was only, like, _the_ guy to go out with); maybe because she didn't actually know her that well; maybe all three.

All she knew was that she sat there cupping her coffee, and started actually _fucking crying._ There were literal tears down her face and her complexion no doubt red and blotchy, because she felt wrong and right and she wanted something to happen and didn't and she was so scared and intrigued by what that article had said and oh goddamnit all was she always going to have all her life with her head taken up by this stuff?

Cora blinked expressively throughout it all, drinking her coffee in unhurried sips, a not quite smile in the corner of her mouth.

When Sloane felt that she had worked herself up sufficiently to start hiccup-sobbing, (hiccobbing? or supping?), the older girl took her hand, teal-polished nails dragging over skin smoothly to place her hand in her grip.

"You listen to me good, Sloane Peterson," she said. "I don't dig crying girls, so you'd better go upstairs, wash your face and come back down and we'll have a proper talk. No judgement, no notes, nothing leaves the room."

Sloane stumbled up the stairs, trying to control her breathing. A damp washcloth over her cheeks and a quick glance in the mirror- yes they were fire-engine red and she looked a total mess. She squared her shoulders and tiptoed back downstairs, suddenly feeling much more apprehensive. Cora was going to ask and know _everything,_ and yes she'd said no judgements but what if half way through she heard something worse than she'd expected and the judgement came anyway?!

Cora wasn't in the kitchen.

She found her instead, in the sitting room, feet casually kicked up on one couch, sunglasses hooked in the neckline of her shirt. She looked completely relaxed and, as Sloane was beginning to realise, the definition of a bombshell.

"Sit down, sit down," she waved at the other couch, "now, just so I can get things straight, we're going to play a game where I just ask you shit and you answer."

"That's a sucky game," Sloane said, but she could feel herself relaxing nevertheless. Just a game...

"You're currently going out with Bueller?"

"Yeah."

"And you like it when you guys do stuff?"

"Yeah... I mean... we haven't done much but I like it."

"Ok, ok. So you haven't slept together?"

"Not yet, no."

"Why?"

"...ummm, it's scary?"

"Hah, okay then. And, just to check, you read a thing about dating two guys and you freaked out?"

Sloane nodded.

"...and it freaked you out because you liked the idea?"

This took more thought and more confusion. "No! Well, I don't know! Like, I was thinking about both of them and just- I- argghhh, I don't know!"

"It is perfectly alright for you to want to try to sleep with both of them though I reckon that's a bit much for a beginner." Cora looked at her nails, sharp blue eyes glancing up in a practised air of nonchalance- but for Sloane that very thought stabbed through her. She shuddered and shook her head, trying to find a way to articulate her rejection.

"I know I don't really want it but I thought about it and just, just... I'm with Ferris!" she wailed.

Cora shrugged, a spare movement. "Doesn't mean you can't grow closer to your other guy..."

And that was how Sloane decided that she absolutely did not want to spend the rest of the summer torn up like this.

* * *

 **A/N: yep long time no update sorry pals I had life things happen. Hope ya enjoy!**


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